Death's Visage
by Black-Raven3
Summary: After Harry's 5th birthday, his true powers are unleashed, powers so dark that Dumbledore felt the need to bind them. Fleeing the Dursleys just before his 11th birthday, he seeks refuge with his family's ancestral allies, the Hellsings. DARK. AU Crossover
1. Prologue

November 1st, 1981; 12:19am, Godric's Hollow

Eerie silence encompassed the little village in the aftermath or the terrible evil that had befallen its residents. Smoke clogged the air, choking any who attempted to get close to the scene. One of the houses at the end of the lane had flames flickering within. The kitchen was on fire. However, anyone unlucky to be out at this time of the night could not for the life of them figure out where the smoke was coming from. It was as if the house never existed.

From within, a piercing wail cut the stillness like a knife. Amidst the death and carnage of the destroyed home livid green eyes snapped open and filled with tears. Baby Harry gazed around his ruined nursery, at the corpse of his mother beside him. Even at his diminished age he knew he had been dealt a grievous loss. He stopped crying suddenly. His eyes, which should have held innocent curiosity on any other day, were filled with a wisdom that not even he understood. And for the first time in his short life, he knew... he was completely and utterly alone.

The stillness of the property was broken as a figure in flowing purple robes stepped out of the shadows with a muted crack. The sound startled the child but no cry escaped him. Albus Dumbledor pulled up short as he caught sight of the room. When his instruments had informed him that the wards around Potter house had fallen, he never expected anything like this. Feeling eyes upon him, he turned his gaze to the baby sitting on the floor.

So this was Harry Potter, the child spoken of in the prophecy. Voldemort had sealed both their fates the moment he chose to attack the Potters. It was no shock to the old wizard that Tom had done so. He picked his way over the rubble and stooped to look at the child. A livid pink scar stood out under a fringe of wispy black hair.

"So... that would be where Tom..." He trailed off and his fingers drifted out to touch the curse scar. Pulling up short of touching the skin, he frowned. This child did not feel right. Allowing his glasses to slip to the tip of his nose, Dumbledor gazed into the boys eyes with a frown. Horror dawned on him as he delicately shifted through the fragmented memories within the boy's head. Drawing away from Harry swiftly, as if bitten, he turned accusing eyes on Lily's body and shook his head.

"Oh, Lily, what have you done? You have doomed that entire wizarding world with your actions."

Perhaps there was still hope though. What he had witnessed may not be as it seemed. Young Harry was still too young to understand a great many things, and his thoughts were chaotic and fragmented as a baby's should be. Most likely the boy was confusing what he may have witnessed of Tom during the attack. Corrective measures would have to be put in place however, in case Lily had done what the old Headmaster suspected was within her powers to do.

Turning his back, Albus left the nursery and Harry behind. Work needed to be done to cover this up from the muggles. Arrangements needed to be made for the boy. He suspected the baby's magic would protect him from further harm until then. Making his way downstairs, he bowed his head in sorrow as he happened upon James' corpse. This loss would be mourned greatly.

With a little help from his wand, the flames within the kitchen sprung to a raging inferno, swiftly engulfing the room. Albus shook his head once more, this time in sad remembrance. James was a notorious glutton. No doubt he had been making a midnight snack when Tom had struck. At least the bad habit would serve a purpose in the end.

He made his way out of the house and turned to watch as wood popped and beams snapped from within. Yes, Harry would be fine. He had placed a timed extinguishing spell over the mess. The flames would die out before they reached the child. It was better this way. If the wizarding world ever caught wind of some of the dark history contained within that building, all faith would be lost. James and Lily were the most prominent family opposed to Voldemort. Their names would not be dragged through the mud for the sins of their ancestors. Neither would young Harry's... no... The wizarding world needed a hero, if this was a portend of that yet to come.

Waving his wand, he summoned his patronus and ordered it to seek out Rubeus Hagrid. The child within the ruins needed to be taken to a safe house for evaluation, and he did not want Sirius Black getting a hold of the boy. No matter what Lily had done to the child, Harry would still need special handling. Being raised by a magical family, in the spotlight, being coveted by masses of adoring fans; it was the last thing any child would need, however if the prophecy was correct...

Yes, better for the boy to go to the muggles. Albus greatly suspected that the Dursleys would keep the boy humble and ignorant of magic. It was in everyone's best interest. That aura he had sensed around the boy had been undeniably dark. While it was possible for the killing curse to have such an effect, the images he had picked from the baby's mind troubled him. Harry would need special handling indeed, no matter the case.

November 1, 1981; 10:21am, Unknown Location

The wizarding world rejoiced with explosive fervor at the news. Headlines were already proclaiming the end of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the testimony of one Albus Dumbledore solidified it. The unknowing service Harry Potter had provided to the world was being talked about with reverence, and news of it even leaked into the muggle world. The baby boy who had survived the killing curse and defeated one of the darkest souls of the age. It was a time of celebration, and the end of a dark era in the wizarding world.

For Harry James Potter, however, it was to be the beginning of an age filled with pain and sorrow. The baby slept peacefully in a crib, charmed to sleep by the Headmaster, blissfully unaware of the uproar he had inadvertently caused. Said old man was standing over the sleeping child, staring down at him in the dim lighting provided by the fireplace. A shadow hovered near the door of the room, observing the scene with keen interest.

"Is there a possibility the tests were false-positive, Severus?"

"No. The results were quite clear, Headmaster. There was residue from two separate spells. One was clearly the killing curse. The other was also quite clear."

The shadow finally stepped into the light and moved to stand near the crib. Black eyes observed the child dispassionately. The man hated James Potter, even in the wake of his death. At the moment, however, the child looked more like Lily than ever. Scowling slightly, Severus pushed such ideas away. The child was an abomination that should have died along with his parents.

As if sensing his companion's thoughts, Dumbledore spoke, "The Potters are dead, Severus. Let them lie in peace. As for Harry... My dear baby boy... He will be sent to live with Lily's family. It is for the best. He will be kept from magic until it comes time for him to attend Hogwarts. We cannot risk that he get a taste for power. Not with what Lily did to him..."

Severus' attention snapped to his leader, eyes shadowed. Albus intended to place him with such monsters! The child should be kept from magic, yes, but not those muggles! Unbidden memories sprang to mind. Of Lily crying in the second floor girls bathroom. Her concealed fear at going back to her sister's house after the death of her parents. Her dull eyes and careful movements upon returning to the school each year. Snarling, he turned to the man fully, glaring at him.

"You _know_ what will happen to him there!"

"Yes." The former Death Eater nearly recoiled but held firm. He hated the child in the crib, and all that he represented, yet even he had a heart. It seemed however that Albus did not. Before the potions master could react, Dumbledore petrified him, blue eyes sad as he turned and leaned over the crib. With a sinking feeling, Severus listened as his old professor spoke.

"Lily's actions are unforgivable. To use the darkest of the forbidden arts on her own son... I am binding his powers, Severus. If the world were to ever find out, the Ministry would have him put to death, savior or not. This is for his own good, as well as ours."

Struggling futilely against the spell, all he could do was watch as the old man drew runes of binding in the air over the child. He managed to close his eyes to it; however the words of the spell would forever haunt him. The last half of the spell, he was horrified to recognize. The faded mark on his left arm throbbed at the familiar words.

"_Compes ut redimio, Tutela of vetus cruor, Termino malum inficio! Leech of mens, Redimio is animus ut mei! EGO to order vos!"_

Pained howls of agony from the child shattered him to the very core. Lesser men would have passed out from the pain he knew the child was in. Yet the baby remained awake and quieted almost as fast as he had screamed. The charm holding Severus in place was lifted and he moved warily over to stand opposite the Headmaster at the crib. He could not bring himself to look at the supposed leader of the light.

The baby now sported black runes on his chest, over his heart. They were more terrible than the scar upon his forehead to Severus. Green eyes, the same shade as the killing curse, glared at the Headmaster. It was as if this child, barely old enough to retain memory, knew what Dumbledore had done. For his sake, Severus hoped fervently that he did.

"Speak of this to no one, Severus. Now, please take him to Hagrid."

The former Death Eater bowed, as his new master apparated away. There was nothing he could do. Dumbledore was the only one standing between Severus and the Dementor's Kiss. In solitude, he found himself scrutinized by the child. He frowned and leaned forward, holding the stare. Slowly a smile appeared on Harry's face. It startled the wizard.

"You are strange... Perhaps I can do Lily one more service."

Extricating his wand from its holster, Severus pondered what it was he thought he was doing. If Dumbledore ever found out about this he was as good as dead. Something compelled him though. Those eyes, identical to that of his school crush. They were solemn and out of place on the face of a baby. He decided then. The Headmaster knew nothing about that which he spoke of in regards to Lily Evans.

That steady green gaze watched him as he drew his own set of runes on little Harry's skin with the tip of his wand. There was not much that could be done that would not alert the Headmaster. But he hoped what little aid he offered would serve the boy well. The old man had not taken into account, the fact that Lily's spell on the boy _belonged_ there.

"_Cruor ut cruor, is alica ero perfectus. Quinque annus hinc, cruor take habitum. A vitualamen no, vos mos fulcio."_

The deed done, Severus scooped the child into his arms and apparated away. The only sign of his rebellion against Dumbledore was a small, minuscule scar intersecting the center-most rune, directly over Harry's heart.

_November 1__st__, 1981; 12:13am, Hellsing Headquarters Sub-Basement_

He felt it. A stirring of power. In the distance. It was faint, but detectable to him. The shadows writhed to life around his bound form. That power... it called to him. Waking him from the darkness of oblivion. Who dared call upon him? Only his Master could do so. Attempting to call the power to him yielded no results in his weakened state.

Twenty years he had been sealed by his Master. Reduced to an old corpse. His power fled him with each day he went without sustenance until he fell into a dreamless void of existence. Until now. His bone-white hair seemed to move in a non-existent breeze as he mentally tasted that flare of power. Hunger stirred in him for the first time in years.

The air grew heavy in the long abandoned chamber. It had the feel of a storm to it, despite the clear skies hanging over the manor. He could sense it. Fast change was approaching. War. Bloodshed. Violence. His spirit roared approval and he was delighted. Soon. Soon he would be free once more!

His new found awareness allowed him to sense his Master's weakened health. Arthur Hellsing was at death's door. The patriarch's soul would depart this world before the night's end. Somehow, he wondered if the sudden influx of power had anything to do with it. He did not believe in coincidence. There was another Hellsing to take up the mantle of Master of Monster, but he knew with utter certainty that _this_ would be no ordinary Master.

The emaciated corpse twitched as the power called to him like a Siren. Then just as suddenly as he had sensed it, it was gone. He felt the loss with all of his being. It was a unique feeling, one he had not felt in centuries. Stretching his awareness to the max, he searched, and waited. Biding his time for when his new Master would reveal themselves.

That night, at 12:15am, on All Hollow's Eve, three old souls departed the living world; and two others were reborn.

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**Edit: I fixed some spelling and grammar issues, as well as re-worded some of it to read better.**

Translations:

Dumbledore's Spell- _"Shackles that bind, Restrict the evil taint! Leech of mind, bind this soul to me! I command you!"_

Snape's Spell- _"Blood to blood, this spel__l will be done. Five years hence, blood take hold. A sacrifice made, you will uphold."_


	2. Harsh Lessons

**Edit: **Fixed grammar and spelling, in addition to some sentence structures, wording, and information in the text. I'd recommend at least skimming over this chapter to read the changes.

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_No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey_

The little boy who lived at No. 4 on Privet Drive was highly unusual. To most of the people living in suburbia unusual was a bad thing. The boy always wore rags ten times his size. His eyes were too green, and he never looked you in the eye as you talked to him. When his generous aunt and uncle weren't working him in the yard to teach him discipline, he could always be found sitting alone on the playground down the street.

He never played with the other children, even when they offered to let him join in their games. He would just sit there for hours not moving. Sometimes he would even be seen playing with _snakes_. How scandalous it was to everyone in the neighborhood! The Dursleys explained to any who asked that the boy was mentally retarded after being involved in the car crash which also killed his parents. To everyone, the Dursleys were heroes and Saints for taking in a hopeless case.

To the little boy with shaggy black hair and green eyes, the Dursleys were jailers, torturers, and monsters. From the tender age of one he had lived in the cupboard under the stairs, only feeding on his cousin Dudley's left over bottles, and left to wallow in his own filth until Petunia got tired of his cries or the smell. He spent the first two years under their roof in total darkness. They would only unlock the cupboard door after nightfall, and after all the lights had been turned out. They said it was so they would not have to look upon his wretched, ungrateful face.

They named him Freak and Bastard, until he was of an age to go to pre-school. After that he learned his true name. Harry Potter. The sunlight burned his eyes- a new kind of torture he figured, the first time he was allowed out of the cupboard. The three year old was given his cousins old clothes to cover his nakedness and shoved out the door. They had told him to go to school, failing to realize that he didn't know what or where school was.

For five hours he had wandered alone in the bright world. No one noticed him, even as they bumped into him and knocked him to the ground. The few who took notice frightened him with their attention. The sunlight was the worst. It stung at him and made him blind, robbing him of his senses and eating away at the darkness he found comfort in. The darkness had never brought him pain. He had sought out the nearest place that offered that comfort, a dank alleyway shaded by the overhang of the buildings.

When he had been escorted back to the Dursleys by a police officer, they had acted the part of worried guardians. When the door slammed shut and the patrol car drove off, Vernon had taught Harry that there were worse tortures than the sun. They gave him smaller cast-offs from Dudley to better hide the bruises, and Petunia drove him to school the next day. It was after that the Dursleys realized they could use him.

They set him to work around the house, using every opportunity to vent their anger on him. They sowed lies around the neighborhood of his dementia and mental oddities to stave off questions. Harry learned to loath his family- learned to loath humans in general. That hatred was fueled by his ever escalating mistreatment, and his ability to talk to serpents.

He had learned of this ability his third week of school while on the playground. The other boys had found a garter snake and were taunting it with sticks and throwing rocks at it. Harry never questioned that he could hear the snake's cries of fear, only acted. Dudley had been heading the group, but soon found himself on the ground clutching a bleeding nose with his cousin standing over him.

The snake had disappeared, but there were others he talked to around the school or at the park. After that incident the mistreatment escalated to a new level of horror. His uncle had come to him in the middle of the night, invading the one place Harry felt safe in the house, his cupboard. The man violated his nephew, muffling his cries with a dish rag so as not to wake the house. The child simply thought he was drunk, or enraged that Harry had struck his son; but it soon became a monthly occurrence. After that, Harry learned of the hypocrisies and injustice of the world.

Harry learned his lessons, and learned them well. The passing of his fifth birthday brought in him a sudden change, clarity of thought. For the first time, he could think thoughts of dissent and unhappiness at his position in life. There was no longer a fog enveloping him, no longer keeping him calm and dispassionate in regards to his treatment. For the first time ever, he questioned his relatives. Even if only silently. Over the years he learned many things about the world and under spars teachings at school, realization of what his home life really meant sunk in.

Normal families did not beat and rape their charge. Something sparked in the darkness within him, growing stronger with each passing day. A sensation foreign to him until that moment: Hope. He tried many times over the years to convince adults of what was happening, but the Dursleys were too well trusted. He was scorned as an attention seeker. That spark slowly withered, but never truly died.

From the adults' unwillingness to listen, Harry learned to keep his own council. They turned their backs on him, so his only recourse was to do the same. He refused to speak unless required. He only indulged the privilege of voicing his mind when in the presence of the sparse serpent population around Surrey. They never judged him, simply listened while teaching him the lessons of survival. One serpent in particular helped him learn his true heritage.

The black serpent had come to him one night as he lay in the park. There had been a business meeting at the house and his relatives kicked him out, telling him to not come back until the next day. Harry was nine years old when this happened. The snake had approached him cautiously and seemed shocked when the child spoke to it. This serpent spoke differently than the others. Not in riddles and unfamiliar terms like Harry was used to. It spoke as a serpent, but with a human mind.

_September 18__th__, 1989; 11:30pm, Magnolia Crescent Park, Little Whinging_

Darkness enveloped the area underneath the canopy of trees at the farthest corner of the park. A small figure huddled under a bush, trying in vain to keep warm. He wore only a t-shirt and tattered, oversized jeans for protection. His breath came out in puffs of white, fogging his glasses, but he didn't care. It was dark so there was nothing to see. Still alert, he never truly relaxed. Night time was better than the brightness of day, but he no longer sought solace from it.

He reacted slowly, limbs thankfully numb, as quiet grumbling reached his ears. Shockingly, he recognized the hissing quality of its voice. All the serpents of the area were already in the long sleep- what they called hibernation. It was too cold for one to be awake! The only thing Harry cared about was the serpents. Their company was the only reason he was still sane. Without them, he felt that he would have been little better than a dog. He owed them a debt, in his personal view.

He called out in a near silent hiss, _"Why are you awake__? The __cold__ death is almost upon us!"_

"_Cold death? Oh, you mean winter. What are you doing awake the-"_

Harry removed his glasses and stared around in amazement. A snake who understood human terms was unheard of to him. His eyes picked out a displacement in the shadows of the underbrush. He could see well in the dark. It was only in light that he needed the horrible things. He sat the glasses next to him on the ground and blinked as a dark form slowly revealed itself to what little moonlight pierced the canopy. It seemed to rear back as it saw him.

"_Please! I'm not going to eat you. I'm only a speaker."_

It was several moments before the serpent spoke or even moved. It unwound itself and slithered closer. It was large, almost as long as an adult man was tall. Harry couldn't see any markings on it, as its scales were inky black even in the dim light. He detected darting movements around its snout and held still, knowing he was being scented.

"_How... What is your name, child?"_

"Harry Potter. _How do you know human terms?_" He slipped flawlessly between English and the serpent language. His name had no translation. Nor did snakes take on names of their own. They had no need to identify themselves beyond their markings. This snake seemed to understand his name perfectly, however.

"_Indeed. Wonders will never cease. What are you doing out here in the cold?"_

"_My kin ran me from the nest."_

"_Normal speak, please! I swear, one would think you were a snake with the way you talk."_

Green eyes blinked. This was new. Harry had experienced many things in his life, but never a snake that acted like a human. Hesitating, he repeated himself, his mind taking a moment to process the oddity of it.

"_My human relatives kicked me out of the house."_

"_Thank you. It always gives me headaches attempting to decipher snake-speak."_

"_But you're a snake."_

It seemed to shake its head at him before finally crawling over to curl up at his side.

"_Not really. Have you never wondered how you can speak to serpents?"_

"_No. Snakes make more sense to me than humans. Why would I question it? And what do you mean you're not a snake? You look like one."_

"_My, you're quick." _It was also the first time Harry had ever heard a snake use sarcasm. It seemed that it would be a night of firsts.

"_I am not a snake. I'm a wizard. And you are also a wizard."_

"_What? Wizards aren't real."_

"_How do you explain your ability to talk to me __then?__" _It responded flatly. That stumped the boy, making him frown. He knew he was the only human he had ever met who could do it. But the Dursleys had always insisted that magic wasn't real. Any time it was mentioned in his presence, it usually led to pain. The thought brought him up short. The Dursleys lied about a lot of things.

"_Ah, I see you're finally using that mass between your ears. Listen, and listen well. What I am about to tell you, you can never let on that you know. To anyone."_

That night was the first time Harry ever learned the truth about his parents' deaths. The serpent stayed with him until sun rise. It wove many a wondrous tale with its sibilant tones, speaking of men who could not be named, of war, of a mother's sacrifice, and a history lost to time. As the sun turned the skies into a tapestry of color, the serpent took its leave.

It was the first and last time he saw the dark serpent.

Harry knew the full truth now. It took him several days of going over the conversation in his head before the full meaning of it all sunk in and made sense to him. Seething anger burned in his small frame. There was a man out there, who had placed him with the Dursleys knowing full well what they would do to him. All because he was afraid. Afraid of a baby whose mother had used any means available to protect her son.

Harry was wise to the ways of the world. What the serpent described in one of the nameless men brought forth images of a dog. The old dog down the block that was past its prime, biting and snapping at any who would get close to its kennel for fear that it would be usurped. Harry had once been bit by that dog. How ironic that the nameless man who stirred the unbidden images had also done him harm.

For the next year and a half Harry practiced his magic in secret. Not wand magic, but another form of magic. A magic steeped in darkness. A magic of darkness itself. Something in the spell his mother had cast on him as a baby had given him the ability to manipulate shadows. This talent had been suppressed until his fifth birthday. The snake never explained how or why his birthday held such significance as to unlock the power, but had warned him to keep this especially a secret, above all else.

No one knew just what his mother had done to him, but one of the nameless men feared it as being an evil even greater than that possessed by the man who had killed his parents. He had been warned not to trifle with this part of himself for fear of it being found out. However Harry knew that he would need every advantage.

With the Dursleys he was powerless. He was nothing more than a slave and so much minced meat. Once the letter for the magic school arrived though, he would change things. Once he could break free from the Hell he had been exiled to, he would never again be powerless. He refused. It was that driving need that made him concentrate with all of his might on mastering the shadows.

_July 21__st__, 1991; 10:00pm, Hellsing Headquarters, Library_

He felt it again. A power unlike any he had ever encountered before. It conjured a memory of that night ten years ago, when he had first been awakened from his forced, twenty-year long slumber. It was as entrancing as ever. It tickled his senses, sang to his blood, set his long dead heart racing in his chest. Just as it had that night.

It surged more frequently in past days, as if growing restless. He had sensed it every night now for the past month and it set him on edge. Something was going to happen. Or had already happened. As with all days, he stretched out his consciousness in an effort he knew was fruitless. Never before had he been able to pinpoint where it originated from. It drove him mad, for he knew it came from within the country.

That Halloween night, Arthur Hellsing died, and three days later a new Master had arrived. A young girl of twelve, afraid for her life from her own uncle. She had shared his cell, seeking comfort in an old corpse, more afraid of a human monster than the one she cried next to. Alucard had been aware. That odd power had lent him strength enough to stay awake. That girl had spilled her heart to him, confessed her fear, yet refused to give into it even as she stared up the length of a pistol wielded by her own kin.

Her blood had spoken to him more than her own words. Her blood had been the first to reach his lips in twenty years. And how it had spoken to him! Such strength the likes of which he had not born witness to in generations! That girl, now a young woman, was his True Master. No Hellsing before her had ever been worthy of the title. She won his loyalty that night.

Alucard believed the flare of power had been an omen of sorts. He did not believe it a coincidence. He would not have been aware to bear witness to his Master's strength if he had not been awakened. Dark times were upon them, and Sir Integra endured where her ancestors would have failed. Without his loyalty to her, the organization would have crumbled ten times over, and all of England with it.

It was exhilarating to think upon what may happen now. For one instance, it had foretold the coming of his Master, and held promises of war and blood. For it to suddenly become so active... A chilling grin split his face and he laughed. Another war was on the horizon and fast approaching.

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	3. New Horizons

_July 24th, 1991; 7:01am, No. 4 Privet Drive_

The mail slot on the door clinked as the mailman went about his daily round of the neighborhood. Everything seemed normal. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Harry was in massive amounts of pain as he went about cooking breakfast in silence. For some reason, it didn't _feel_ normal. At least not to Harry.

His sleep had been plagued by more than the usual amount of nightmares. One in particular set him on edge just thinking of it. Face blank, he served out the food, keeping none for himself, and made his way into the hallway to collect the letters from the slot. Alone, he allowed a sigh to escape.

In the dream he had been encased in shadows, walking through a world made of them. Shapes of people sometimes outlined against the inky blackness. He had been alone, but not felt alone. As if there was someone following him. It had been... oddly comforting. That was until a faint light appeared in the distance. It had grown bright to the point of blinding Harry, and driving away the shadows, the presence along with it. Alone, he had squinted into the light. Two twinkling blue eyes meeting his from the center of the brightness. At the appearance of those eyes, Harry had been gripped with a terror and loathing so powerful it had jolted him from a sound sleep.

It still troubled him even hours later. It had not felt like a dream at all. While he was in it, he had felt as awake as he was now. It also didn't make sense. Had he not lost the embrace of darkness years ago? He found it relaxing to play with the shadows, but still. And that presence... it was unfamiliar to him. He had dreamed of his parents before, and even in dreams he could tell when it was them. This one had been different. A loud voice shocked him from his musings.

"Freak! What's taking you so long with the mail?"

Shuddering, he grimaced and spoke up. "There's more to manage than usual, sir."

"Well hurry it up, you ungrateful lout!"

Suppressing another sigh he glanced at the stack of envelopes in his hands. He froze mid step as his sight landed on the topmost bill. It was made of heavy parchment paper, and had his name on it. Snapping his attention to his surroundings, he swiftly deposited the envelope into one of his pockets. Drawing in a deep breath, he schooled his face into the familiar blank mask and entered the kitchen.

He had waited nearly two years for this letter to come. A couple more hours would not kill him. He went about his chores as normal. The Dursleys never suspected a thing. On the inside however, he was a roiling mass of nerves and impatience. The key to his freedom was literally in his grasp, yet he was unable to use it. Not yet at least.

_3:42pm_

At long last he was alone. Harry sat in a tree in his corner of the park. It was still light out, but not many people were out due to the heat. The Dursleys had kicked him out of the house once again, this time because Dudley had fallen ill and they assumed he had something to do with it. He had, but they didn't know that. At lunch he had slipped some leaves into the stew. He didn't know what they were called, but the snakes had told him in their own way that it made large animals sick.

It had achieved the desired affect. He was pleased with himself. Thoughts of the beating he would surely receive upon his return to the house could not dampen his mood. They were a daily occurrence that he could grin and bear now, with this new gem he possessed. The letter sat open, pinned to the branch with his thigh. Contained within it was all the information that black snake had told him about in regards to his admittance into the wizard school.

Poisoning the Dursleys would be a delightful bonus to his plans. Getting them to take him to London would be easy. If Dudley got much worse they would take him to the hospital, and they would never leave Harry alone in the house if they could help it. He could slip away and purchase his school things, in addition to completing a few other select tasks.

A fleeting grin touched his lips before his expression returned to its normal blankness. Carefully, he folded the letter up and tucked it away. He needed to get back to the house just in case. If the pig wasn't sick enough yet to be taken to the hospital, Harry would slip the leaves into all of their food at dinner. The snakes had warned him that they had seen animals gorged on the leaves die after a certain amount. The thought actually cheered him up and bolstered his steps as he jumped from the tree and wandered towards Privet Drive.

Just in time too. The Dursleys were all bundled up despite the humidity and making a beeline for the car. The two males looked green, while Petunia was paler than usual. He received glares and muttered death threats at his sudden return, but was waved into the car. Obviously they had all gotten around to sampling the stew. Harry remained stoic despite the snicker wanting to escape his tightly clenched lips.

During the two hour commute to the city they were forced to stop five times. Once for Petunia, and twice each for Dudley and Vernon. Through it all Harry forcefully managed to retain his solemn demeanor. As the cityscape came into view, he began mentally reviewing his plans.

After this little stunt he had no illusions that they wouldn't make good on those initial death threats. He would not be able to go back to that house. Despite the time that had passed he still remembered everything he had learned from the snake. Once he reached London and escaped, he was to go to Charing Cross Road and look for a place called the Leakey Cauldron.

From there he would have to keep his head down and go straight through to the back. Third brick up and two across, all he had to do was press on it with his hand and hopefully it would open. After that, he would have to go to Gringotts. The serpent had never said what exactly Gringotts was, simply commenting that he would know it on sight and that once there he should ask to speak with someone in a secure room.

Simple enough. Harry actually had a good idea of where Charing Cross Road was. If he was correct, it wasn't all that far from the hospital the Dursleys always went to. As the car carried them down the familiar rout Harry kept his eyes on the street signs. He silently counted down the minutes until they arrived at their destination. A sign post drew his gaze as they stopped at an intersection. _Charing Cross Road. _

Once they came to a stop in the patient parking lot he found himself ordered to stay in the car. The second they disappeared within the building he threw the door open and bolted. It was the first order he could ever remember so blatantly disobeying. It felt... indescribable. His expression remained the same despite the odd feeling in his guts. He felt... happy? Was this how the school teacher back in elementary school had described it? He could not remember, but he knew the feeling was a good thing due simply to the fact that he had never felt it before.

Backtracking, he had found his way easily. In what seemed to be no time at all he found himself in Diagon Alley. The pub had been amazing in and of itself, but the strange sights of the Alley left him in awe. Hearing the black snake talk about it had been one thing, but this was quite another. He wandered down the street, dodging the odd people who crossed his path. Half way down the alley, he paused to stare up at an imposing, white marble building. _Gringotts Wizard Bank _was clearly stamped in gold lettering across the entrance. 'Know it when you see it' indeed.

Harry received a shock when he saw the guards standing at the door. He had been warned that the bankers were not human, but he hadn't been expecting goblins. Intimidating though it was, he squared his shoulders and marched in. This was nothing compared to Hell.

So late in the evening, there weren't many customers and several windows held no line. He only hesitated once he reached the desk. This was where his plans got sketchy. The snake had told him to ask for one goblin specifically, but the name had gotten lost in translation. There were just some words that could not be fully understood via hissing. The best they had been able to communicate between them had been a snake-riddle containing clues.

"Excuse me, Sir?" The goblin looked up from counting out a stack of silver coins. It looked displeased at being disturbed, but smiled coolly in an effort to cover the initial scowl.

"May I help you?"

"Er, yes. You see, I need to speak with someone privately. Only I'm not entirely certain of this person's name...."

The scowl came back full force. The goblin leaned over the desk and frowned down at the child. Harry knew that he didn't look like much, but he returned the look without flinching. They stared each other down for several moments. Finally the goblin looked down and nodded slowly. He snapped to attention, calling out to another goblin as it exited one of the dozens of tunnels branching from the main lobby.

"Griphook! Take this boy to a secure room. Assist him with anything he requires."

Harry followed the new goblin out of the lobby and down one of the hallways. It was carved out of the same pristine white marble as the outside of the building, as well as the lobby. Several doors and other tunnels branched off, but Griphook kept a steady pace down the main junction. Five minutes later they halted in front of an unmarked wooden door. It opened automatically as Griphook stepped forward, revealing a simple, yet tastefully decorated meeting room. The one window in the room looked out over the roof tops of Diagon Alley, even though Harry was certain they had been going _down_wards to get to this room.

Seeing the direction of Harry's admittedly surprised stare, Griphook shot him a toothy grin as he sat took a seat in one of the chairs.

"You must be new to the wizarding world, Sir." He motioned to the chair beside his and snapped his fingers. Immediately a folder appeared on the table in front of him. It caused Harry to jump, but otherwise remain unaffected as he took the offered seat.

"Now Sir, what business brings you to Gringotts?"

He blushed and squirmed under the expectant look. He actually felt bad for possibly wasting their time. He normally didn't hold any emotion or regard for humans. They tended to just ignore him, or treat him cruelly. But Griphook wasn't a human, and his full attention was on Harry. So far the goblins had been nothing but polite.

"Well, you see, I was instructed by a friend of mine to come here.... He, er, he told me to ask to use a secure room, and to ask for someone by name. Only, we don't quite speak the same language, so the actual name didn't translate...."

He ducked his head under the scrutinizing look his confession provoked. The goblin cleared his throat and chuckled lightly, causing Harry to look up.

"Young one, what is your name? Perhaps that may clear up some of the confusion."

"Harry Potter."

Griphook's eyes widened slightly. "Ah.... Do you have any clues as to the name of the person you must speak with?"

Harry cursed mentally. He had been hoping to avoid that particular question. He had been able to understand the riddle, but not solve all of it. If 'Griphook' were an indicator of how goblin names ran, it could mean any number of things. He didn't have much of a choice though.

"Well, it's rather confusing. Something about a leader of something. The closest word I could understand to it was 'kin'. And something about 'life essence' and 'knives'. That's the only part of it I've been able to figure out. It translated as a riddle.... Head of kin, leader of none; knives that rend flesh and drink of the essence of life; through the white death in the midst of predators.... Oh, erm, 'white death' means winter."

He observed Griphook as the goblin looked deep in thought. He really hoped it was enough. Apparently luck was with him, as a look of recognition crossed over the banker's face. His eyes were sharp as he smirked at the boy and finally commented, "Wait here a moment. I believe I know who you are looking for."

Several tense minutes passed for Harry as we waited for the goblin's return. His eyes were distant as they locked on some far-off point outside the window. This all seemed so surreal now that he had a moment alone to think. Mere hours ago he had been awaiting his next beating from Vernon. Now he was sitting in a wizard bank run by goblins. Since he had met the serpent that small glimmer of hope had rekindled. He had _wanted _to believe. But he never expected for any of it to be true.

Some things the snake had spoken of resonated within him so deeply that there was no way he could dismiss it. But others, such as this entire new _world, _he had been skeptical of. A part of him had still held dark thoughts that perhaps the snake's words, and even the letter, had been a prank. Now though, he knew without a doubt that it was all true. It solidified his resolve.

Of all his lessons, survival had been the one to stick with him firmly. Harry knew that this wizarding world held dangers to him, possibly far more than even the Dursleys. Anything would be better than that Hell. Surviving had been as much a daily chore there as the housework. At least taking his destiny head on would give him more freedom. More of a chance at defending himself. The Dursleys had never given him a chance to fight back.

Haunted green eyes flickered to the door as it opened and admitted Griphook and a new goblin. He showed no emotion even as he recognized that this new goblin could easily snap him in half if he wanted to. He was two feet taller than both Harry and Griphook, and sported rippling muscles on his torso. It was obvious that he was not one of the bank attendants. Either that or he was in a position to not have to worry about appearances.

His upper body was bare, save a leather belt crossing one shoulder across his chest. It was decorated with gems and polished bone. He wore tan breeches that sported tell-tale rust colored blood stains. Harry should know, he had washed enough of his own blood out of the carpet at Privet Drive. On one hip he openly displayed a jewel encrusted sheath with a worn knife hilt poking out. His feet were bare, showing off sharp talons.

Also unlike the other goblins he had seen, this one sported a full head of bristly black hair, tied back in braids to keep it from falling into his eyes. As he turned to dismiss Griphook, the boy caught sight of a pointed ear, slightly bent at the tip under the weight of several gold earrings. The snakes at Little Whinging would have called him an 'eater', or predator. One who was highly dangerous and should be avoided.

Griphook bowed low to the other goblin and gave Harry a brief nod before he left. The remaining goblin turned his attention to the young wizard. Unlike the staring contest with the goblin in the lobby, their exchange was more assessing than challenging. Harry dropped his gaze first. His reaction, or lack thereof, seemed to amuse the other being.

"If only all wizards reacted to my kind as you do, Mister Potter." His voice was deep and scratchy, reminiscent of a bear. He let out a rumble as he took a seat, further emulating the mental image.

"I am Bloodclaw, Head of ClanFear. I am the one to whom you were referred. Tell me, how did you come by a riddle such as the one you posed to Griphook? And the truth, please. I do not appreciate being deceived."

Harry glanced around the room and frowned. "This place is one hundred percent secure?"

"Yes. I am also forbidden to speak to anyone of this meeting. I will swear a blood oath if need be."

The boy tilted his head to the side, frowning. It was the most emotion he had shown since Griphook left. He didn't feel safe talking about his abilities to just anyone. He needed more than simple words. He posed his question carefully while eying the goblin.

"What does a blood oath entail?"

Bloodclaw nodded in approval before answering. A blood oath, he explained, was a magically binding contract written in the blood of the parties involved. It used a special type of quill which drew a small amount of blood from the person holding it, using it as ink as the contract was drawn up and signed. According to Bloodclaw, magic resided in a persons blood. To break a blood oath was to sever ones magic, which would kill or cripple the one breaking the oath, depending on their species and the strength of the person's magic.

It sounded reasonable to Harry. At his request, Bloodclaw summoned a blank sheet of parchment and a quill the color of blood. It was the goblin who wrote the contract, stating that as the only one who could reasonably break it, it should be mostly his own blood used. He allowed Harry to read it over before they both signed. A feeling like charged electricity traveled down his arm to the quill as he wrote the last letter of his name.

He felt better with it officially in writing, but it took him a few moments before he could find his voice. Bloodclaw, to his credit, waited patiently.

"I can talk to snakes."

That caught the goblin's interest. He sat up even straighter than before and looked serious. "You are a parselmouth?"

"I don't know what that is. But if it means talking to snakes then yes. A snake came to me one night and told me to come here and speak with you. I don't know how or why it knew such things."

"Parseltongue is the language of serpents, young Potter. Wizards with the ability are called Parselmouths. It is extremely rare. I believe I know why you are here."

He reached across the table and picked up the folder Griphook had summoned. It looked empty to Harry, but it obviously held something from the way Bloodclaw was staring at the inside covers. With everything he had witnessed since stepping into the Leakey Cauldron, he surmised that appearances were deceiving when it came to magic. Bloodclaw let out ponderous rumble and sat the folder back down.

Turning his eyes on Harry, he rumbled again, and the boy realized the sound must be a type of laughter. Black eyes glittered at him with amusement. The open folder was pushed across the table so he could see. It looked like a number chart, and some of the figures were quite large. Ignoring the numbers, he focused on writing at the bottom of the parchment. It didn't make much sense to him, what could be amusing about what the words contained.

Harry didn't understand all of it, but he understood enough.

_'Harry James Potter, born July 31, 1980, Location Unknown_

_James Potter, Deceased_

_Lily Evans, Deceased_

_Magical Guardian(s): Sirius Orion Black, Incarcerated* and Remus John Lupin, Ineligible*_

_Secondary Magical Guardian(s): Alice and Frank Longbottom, Terminal_

_Note: If no Magical Guardian is available, it is the order of Lily Evans and James Potter that their son, Harry James Potter is to under no circumstances go to Muggle Petunia Evans Dursley. Head Goblin Bloodclaw is in agreement to, upon unfortunate circumstance, contact select Muggle foster care homes for placement of one Harry James Potter should guardian death or incompetence occur before minor's coming of age._

_Signed,_

_Ragnok_

_Head Goblin_

_Will Contested as of November 13, 1981. _

_Terms– Contested by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Council proceedings withheld. Ultimate ruling by Goblin Law 85, Section 29, Subsection 187, Paragraph C-9. Inheritance withheld until minor is of a knowledgeable age to collect. All vaults sealed until further notice. Trust Vault to be unsealed upon Harry James Potter's eleventh year. _

_All physical properties to be withheld. All deeds and items collected and sealed in Potter Ancestral Tomb. Addendum; British Ministry of Magic's attempt to seize all physical properties of the Potter and Evans line failed. Renegotiation of Goblin Rights to occur immediately. All deeds and items to be moved and sealed under Orc ClanFear Mines. Deed Status – 2 Deeds claimed as of December 20, 1907**. Total Deeds: 5. Item Status – One Item Missing. Total Items: 206. Books and Scrolls not cataloged. The Cloak of Invisibility to be Recalled upon request._

_All monetary assets to be withheld. All vaults sealed. Trust Vault to be reinstated as of July 31, 1991. Key Status – One Key Missing. Total keys: 6. Trust Vault key to be deactivated and/or Recalled upon request. _

_All Titles to be withheld. All Family Rings to be sealed with physical properties. Ring Status – Two Rings Missing. Total Rings: 4. Wallach Family Ring and Gryffindor Family Ring to be Recalled upon request. _

_*Sirius Orion Black was charged with the alleged murder of one Peter Pettigrew. Mister Black was sentenced to life in Azkaban prison. Investigation under Goblin Law yielded that no evidence was collected by the wizards in connection with the alleged murder. Full investigation pending Goblin Rights renegotiation._

_Remus John Lupin is ineligible due to his Werewolf status. Newly instated Anti-Werewolf legislation bars Mr. Lupin from claiming magical guardianship over any child not of his own blood. _

_**Potter Mansion Deed claimed by Wizard Jonathan Harker, April 18, 1849. Potter Mansion Deed willed to Muggle Abraham Van Hellsing, May 1, 1860. Current Deed Holder: Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, Muggle._

_Windy Mire Deed claimed by Wizard Bernard Marrick Evans, December 19, 1907. Windy Mire Deed willed to Heir, January 4, 1971. Current Deed Holder: Harry James Potter, Wizard._

_Withholding Contract Signed and Witnessed,_

_Ragnok_

_Bloodclaw_

_Snarltooth_

_Ridgeback_

_Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Alfredius Noris'_

Harry glanced up when he was done reading the page fully. The Head Goblin still looked amused. There was nothing to laugh about on that page, and the other's seeming enjoyment irritated the boy. Seeing this, the goblin spoke up. He looked solemn as he intoned firmly,

"Mister Harry James Potter. I, Bloodclaw, Chieftain of ClanFear and Executor of the Potter Will, do here-by release all family inheritance to the rightful Heir. Under Goblin Law, and enforced unto Wizardom, you are of a knowledgeable age to collect. All Family Vaults, Properties, Titles, and Records are here-by released into your care."

Looking back at the page, Harry eyed the wording of the withholding contract. A grin crept onto his lips, mirrored by Bloodclaw. The sheer cleverness of it immediately increased his respect for the goblins. He bowed his head in acknowledgment and thanked the Head Goblin.

Once again, his actions seemed a source of surprise. He didn't know why. It was just his way. All he knew of etiquette had come from observing the residents of suburbia and the snakes. He liked the snake way better as it didn't involve skin to skin contact. The snakes, on the rare occasion they should happen across each others paths, bowed to each other if they meant no harm or acknowledged that the other was an equal, and therefor not food. Foolish humans often interpreted it as an aggressive stance in the serpents.

Bloodclaw bowed in turn before folding his hands on the table and clearing his throat. A new folder popped into existence under his palms. This one was green, unlike the first which had been manila. He opened it up and pulled out a small stack of papers.

"Mister Potter, there are a few things which must be gone over with you before you can access your inheritance. A couple questions also need to be answered in order to update our files here at Gringotts. First of all, where have you been living for the past ten years?"

"I was left on the doorstep of Petunia Dursley. I've been staying with them until recently."

A quill was extracted from the folder and the goblin scribbled something on one of the forms. He looked displeased as he paused and read from another of the papers. He growled and muttered in another language, adding another note.

"Did they harm you physically in any way?" He asked, still writing. Pausing, he glanced up when no answer was forthcoming.

"Mister Potter, the answer is highly important. None of this information will be communicated in any way, shape, or form to anyone, and you need not go into detail. However, actions can be taken against them depending on your answer."

"Yes, they did." The assurance that he would not have to divulge how far the abuse went set him at ease. With a sharp jerk of his chin to show he had heard, Bloodclaw sat the quill down while eying the sheet of paper.

"Were you aware that your mother also suffered at the hands of Mister and Misses Vernon Dursley?"

Slowly, the boy shook his head. He had not known. The Dursleys had never said anything about his mother, other than when in reference to her 'freakishness'. The thought that he was not the only one harmed by them made his heart ache. He never knew his parents, but from his dreams and faint memories he remembered that his mother had cared for him greatly. That the Dursleys had hurt her as well....

"I apologize for my bluntness, Mister Potter." He cleared his throat and continued, "Your mother's parents died when she was twelve. There was a nine year age gap between your mother and aunt, and when Mr. And Mrs. Evans died, custody defaulted to Petunia and her spouse. I am restricted by contract in regards to the information I can divulge to you, but I can tell you that if you wish it, the Goblins can enforce certain measures to ensure they receive due punishment."

"Please do." There was no hesitation needed. Had Harry stayed with them, eventually he would have been killed. He had been planning on poisoning them all himself if he were forced to go back. Better to keep his own hands clean of the mess and let the goblins take care of it now that it appeared he was free of them.

"It will be done. Now that the unpleasantness is taken care of, on to the matter of your inheritance. As you read, there are now six vaults under your name. Collectively they hold nine hundred million galleons, seventy-five thousand sickles, and one-hundred and ninety-three thousand knuts. I'll explain our money system later. Currently all non-monetary items are being held in the ClanFear Ancestral Tomb. They will be moved to a new vault here at Gringotts within the hour.

Legally you now own five properties located in England and neighboring countries. Although one of the properties was Willed to someone outside the Potter or Evans bloodlines, the terms of the original agreement still hold. You may repossess or co-habituate that property at your leisure. Although it is currently populated by muggles. A list of all properties and locations will be provided to you before you leave.

You are also granted four Titles. These Titles are more symbolic than anything now days, but may still grant you certain... privileges within the wizarding community. They are marks of status. As is customary, I shall explain each Title based on which side of the family it comes from, and based on which are most influential in recent times.

Before I go on, do you have any questions?"

Harry's mind reeled at taking in so much information at once. Never in a million years would he expect that he could be rich. Or that he actually owned property. Maybe he wouldn't have to go homeless after all. That thought made him remember his goals. He snapped himself back into focus. There were things that he could think about later. Right now he needed all the information he could get his hands on.

"That key that's missing. Do you know who would have it?"

"We have ideas. If you give the order it can be summoned to Gringotts, and the tracking charms traced to see where it has been. It will take several days."

Harry agreed readily. If someone had a vault key he wanted to know who and why. It was quite obvious to him that someone had deliberately sabotaged his parents' will. The name of the person who had contested it was familiar. On the Hogwarts letter, hadn't it been the Headmaster? Later, he told himself mentally.

Everything was moving too fast. He had been the one to set it all in motion though, and he knew it. Had the black serpent not warned him about meddling with these things? He had anyway, despite the warnings. Ever since most of the bindings wore off on his fifth birthday he had dreamed of taking back the control robbed from him by some faceless person with twinkling blue eyes. Now that he knew of his ties to the wizarding world, and of the contents of the will, he couldn't just drop it. He had made his decision the moment he decided to follow the snake's instructions.

"Tell me about the Titles, please."

"I shall start with your father's side. The first Title is Heir to Gryffindor. Godric Gryffindor was one of the four founders of Hogwarts. Through your father's blood, you are one of three heirs to the Gryffindor bloodlines. It is a very prestigious and acceptable name to bear. The last Title from your father: Lord Potter. As the last remaining heir of the main bloodline, you are Head of the family. This is the reason you have access to Potter Mansion despite not being the deed holder. It is a house which was built by your ancestors; it contains many of your family's secrets. Jonathan Harker and Abraham Van Hellsing signed a contract agreeing to the Potter's continued lordship over the home. Harker was a direct heir through Cicilia Potter. The Potters have traditionally held close ties with the muggle Royal Family. To my knowledge, the Queen still acknowledges the Potters as a part of her court.

Next, from your mother's side; Master of the Mire. This one is rather unique, and a bit of a sore spot for most wizards now days. Have you heard of the Four Founders of Hogwarts yet?"

"No Sir. I only just received the letter for Hogwarts today."

Bloodclaw waved it off. "No matter. You can learn about them in depth at school. In regards to the Title, I recommend that you not use it openly. Not many remember what it signifies, however the few who do hold ill will to those who bear it. Especially if you go to Hogwarts. Salazar Slytherin was one of the four who founded the school, along with Godric Gryffindor. He is most famous for his persecution of muggles and muggle-borns. Your mother's father was a direct descendant. Master of the Mire was once Slytherin's Title. As with the Potter family Title, it means that you are the last of the direct decedents.

And last, Chieftain of Wallach. The Wallach were a clan of nomadic gypsies in eastern and central Europe. They were muggles for the most part, but some wizards intermarried. I do not possess much knowledge of them, beyond rumor and myth...."

He hesitated and shot the boy a questioning look. Harry nodded for him to go on. He was curious about his ancestry.

"It is said that despite being muggles, the Wallach knew of magical beasts, and were known to travel with werewolves and vampires. Some tales even go so far as to say the Wallach were making deals with the creatures in exchange for magical powers. It is impossible for this to be true of any dealings they might have had with the werewolves, however vampires can, given sufficient age and power increase, transfer blood into a human without killing them or turning them undead.

That is all I know on the subject of those stories. Regrettably I only learned what I felt was pertinent to the Titles. To that end; the clan bloodlines still flourish in certain areas, even after several decades of war and famine. They were forced to settle during the first World War. Your grandmother was the last Chieftain they ever had. During World War Two she was placed in a concentration camp in Poland, where she was later rescued and brought to England by muggle troops. She never named a successor within the clan. The Title is passed down by both blood and choice. If the Chieftain does not name someone, then it passes to the next of kin.

I can also have the Wallach and Gryffindor rings Recalled, but such as with the key, it will take some time. Their last known location was at Godric's Hollow the night of your parents' deaths. The same also goes for the Cloak of Invisibility."

"Thank you. Er, I don't mean to be rude, but what else needs to be done before I leave? I've had a long day and it's a lot to take in."

The Head Goblin rumbled in amusement. "But of course. Forgive me for rambling. The only other matter that needs seen to is the issue of your guardian. Normally the choice would fall to the Ministry, however seeing as how you have claimed your inheritance, you may choose for yourself. Your Titles grant you the right."

Harry signed and gazed down at the file still open in front of him. He should have expected that no governing body would knowingly let an eleven year old live on their own. But he didn't know anyone, and the last thing he needed after the Dursleys was yet another adult with control over him. His eyes trailed over the paper before unwittingly settling on one specific line. It took him a moment to register what the words said. An idea slowly bloomed.

Face blank despite the smirk wanting to shine through, Harry looked up at Bloodclaw. The next question was asked carefully, despite his swift thinking.

"What duties... would my chosen guardian be required to perform, by law, concerning my wellbeing?"

"They would be required," Bloodclaw rumbled, "by law... to provide you reasonable shelter, clothing, and food. Additionally they must provide health care whenever needed. Schooling is already seen to, thanks to Hogwarts. That is all."

That was exactly what Harry wanted to hear. His gaze darted back down to the paper, chewing the inside of his cheek in thought. Depending on what type of person this Sir Integra was, he may not have to worry about anyone getting in his way. All he wanted was to be left alone for the rest of the summer. He needed to heal physically, and do research on the wizarding world so he knew what to expect at the school. The serpent had hinted at the fact that something or someone at the school might cause him problems.

Finally, he spoke up. "I would like to approach Sir Integra Hellsing about being my guardian." There was a moment of silence before Bloodclaw snickered. Harry would have been offended had the goblin not immediately bowed his head and apologized.

"I'm sorry Mister Potter. It is simply amusing how much you think like one of us. We rarely see it in adult wizards, let alone a child. Had you not requested it, I would have suggested Sir Hellsing myself. A representative will be sent first thing tomorrow morning, and a list of terms drawn up. It will be quite a challenge getting her to agree. The situation is a delicate one, as while the Hellsing family are muggles, they are fully aware of the magical world. The Hellsing family runs a secret organization in cooperation with both the muggle Queen and the Ministry of Magic. The organization hunts down creatures in England who prey on humans, mainly vampires."

Wider than usual eyes were the only show of astonishment at that. Really, with all he had learned, and even his ability to manipulate shadows, he couldn't help it. Every bit of new information he heard sounded more and more outlandish. He blinked as the quill Bloodclaw was holding suddenly started writing under its own power. Shaking himself from his stupor, and at the goblin's prompting, he outlined the terms for his stay at Hellsing.

For the most part all he really needed was a room to himself, access to the general areas of the manor, and someone to drive him so he could buy his own food and clothing. From what Bloodclaw said, the family was well established in that house and he didn't want to make a nuisance of himself. The goblin counseled him to keep loopholes for himself though. Rather than unwittingly restrict his own rights and access in a house the rightfully belonged to him, he worded it to be more open. It took some time, and many corrections, before it was to both their liking. Harry looked it over before signing awkwardly. Bloodclaw insisting he use his Titles.

Relief swept through Harry when the goblin informed him that they had done all they could for now. It had been a very trying day and all he wanted to do was sleep. Bloodclaw summoned a small leather pouch and handed it to him before escorting him to the lobby. On the way he explained that it was a First Class Anti-Thief money purse. All he needed to do was specify how much wizard money he needed and it would be there. It would shrink to impossible size if anyone but he tried to use it.

Bloodclaw instructed him to stay at the Leakey Cauldron for the night and wait there for Griphook to collect him when word came about the letter. Before leaving, he received a warning to keep his head down while at the pub, or if he went out into Diagon Alley. The words echoed what the snake had already told him, but nodded his agreement anyway.

It was dark out and most of the shops were closed as he wandered back to the pub. He barely noticed the blessed lack of people, distracted as he desperately attempted to make sense of everything that had just happened. More than likely it would take him a couple days to sort through it all and make sense of it. Just like all the other information he had learned in the past. He was intelligent, but his relatives' conditioning was hard to break. They had always beaten him whenever he did better than Dudley in school, or if a teacher commented on his fast learning ability while in conference.

Normally it was easy for him to retain information, especially if he learned it by listening. He could hear entire passages of text read, and remember every word of it. His brain just needed time to translate it into a context he could understand before he could put it to practical use. Yet another reason he preferred snakes to humans. The only thing they could do was speak and use body posture, both things he was best at interpreting.

It bothered him, as much as it overjoyed, that he was leaving the familiar behind. Abusive and cowardly though they were, the Dursleys had at least offered him stability. He knew how to predict them, and how they would react to any situation on any given day. But this.... He was just as blind here as he had been that first time he was forced out into the light. Anything could happen to him, and allies were hard to spot from enemies. It troubled him, and made his eyes ache at the remembered pain. It was not a good feeling.

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**Note**: Thank you all for the reviews! Yes, even the one person who swore at me ^.^ It at leasts let me know there's some interest in it while at the same time reminding me that it still needs work.


	4. First Contact

_July 25, 1991; 8:59am, Hellsing Headquarters, Office_

_'Sir Integra Hellsing, _

_Greetings. I am acting on behalf of one Harry James Potter, as he is not of legal age. I believe that you are fully aware of a contract that was signed by Jonathan Harker and Abraham Van Hellsing in regards to the Hellsing family's residence at your current location. Lord Potter, the last direct descendant of Jonathan Harker, has claimed his inheritance, including all properties under the Potter name. This is not to alarm you, as Lord Potter does not wish to displace you from your homestead. However situations have come to light which make it impossible for Lord Potter to stay with his as of now former guardians. Due to events which will be explained at Lord Potter's convenience, he finds it necessary to request that you take up the position of his legal guardian. _

_Lord Potter is fully aware of the true nature of your organization. He is also aware of the rather precarious position this arrangement would place you in, both personally and professionally. I assure you that his presence will not hinder your operation. Lord Potter is a wizard of school age, and will be starting his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this September. If you find the terms agreeable, his stay would endure for a maximum of only three and a half months out of each year. Lord Potter will provide his own food and clothing, as well as compensation for occasional use of one of your c__hauffeurs. As per the habitation agreement, Lord Potter's access to any location within the manor or grounds can not be forbidden. However he has agreed that if allowed to live in the manor as your ward he will do his utmost best to respect your wishes if for what ever reason you request he avoid certain areas. _

_Your cooperation in this matter would be highly appreciated. At your reply, the goblin whom delivered this letter has leave to provide you our contact information. _

_Sincerely, _

_Bloodclaw,_

_Head Goblin;_

_Chieftain of ClanFear_

_Lord Harry Potter,_

_Heir of Gryffindor;_

_Master of the Mire;_

_Chieftain of Wallach_

Polite, straight to the point, and no room for refusal. The letter was rather well worded. Sir Integra Hellsing ground out her cigar in the crystal ashtray at the corner of her desk. Her hand shook minutely in spite of her attempts to show no emotion. She would dearly love to meet the person who wrote the letter, to congratulate them on a game well played and to empty a round of silver bullets into them. The simple fact that they mentioned the Harker – Hellsing arrangement at all meant she had no choice. A cleverly veiled threat.

They had also not been endearing themselves to her by sending a goblin to oversee her decision. All in the name of business, she forcefully reminded herself. She would have done the same. The last thing the organization needed was a child getting underfoot however. Alucard was difficult enough to deal with as it was.

There was also the issue of safety. Wizard or not, she knew of the laws in place to keep the untrained from using magic outside of school, even in self defense. Hellsing was a prime target of vampire attacks. Rare though they were, the guards were always on high alert. Training also occurred daily on the grounds. Her fists clenched and she bit her lip, glaring over the desk at the enforcer. There were just too many risks. She needed more information before she would even begin to seriously entertain the thought of accepting.

"Why is it that I am being _requested_ to specifically become the boy's guardian? There are orphanages and foster homes for a reason."

"It is not my business to say, Sir. Head Goblin Bloodclaw merely stated that should you ask, I was to inform you that dire circumstance spurred Lord Potter to the decision.... I may be overstepping my bounds, Sir, but from talking with Lord Potter myself, he will be no trouble at all. Goblins have a keen sense for the worth of our business partners."

Had she possessed a modicum less of self control, she would have growled. While she knew of the reputation the goblins held, it did little to assure. The entire affair seemed rather dodgy. But again, despite her wishes to the contrary, it all came back to wording. The boy could waltz right in without leave if he so intended. Yet this letter was giving her the option of having a choice in the matter.

She turned her glare back to the missive. A voice suddenly spoke up, startling the goblin. Integra simply lifted an eyebrow at the new presence in her office.

"You should accept, Master. Having a wizard around would be interesting. It has been decades since I last encountered one, and I am intrigued pondering on what has become of the Harker line. The Potter name also seems familiar to me."

"It is your interest, vampire, which concerns me."

A dark chuckle resounded through the chamber. Shadows merged slowly behind her desk, forming into a tall, crimson clad figure. Sharp teeth flashed at the creature standing before the desk in a parody of a grin. The goblin cowered slightly but remained firm. Its show of bravado prompted another laugh.

"As amusing as this little display is. Where is Walter?"

Alucard bowed deeply, still grinning as he replied, "There was discord amongst the sheep. I believe the Angel of Death will return momentarily once they are all put back in their places."

Biting back another growl, Integra shook her head. There was no doubt in her mind that Alucard was the cause of said discord, for Walter to be called down to the barracks. Such antics were precisely the reason she did not need nor want a sniveling little brat traipsing about the place and getting himself shot. Any displays of magic around the men would make them edgy, and some of them were muggles ignorant of the wizard world.

A vein bulged in her neck from her frustration. Her thoughts were getting her nowhere. Action was needed. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she let out a slow breath, ignoring Alucard as he grinned down at her. Turning her attention once more to the goblin, she spoke in a commanding voice usually reserved for directing troops.

"Tell me how to contact this 'Lord' Potter."

Smirking nastily, the goblin held out a quill, and Integra knew that she'd been had.

"In order to properly complete the paperwork, you will have to travel to Gringotts. This portkey will take you there."

"What," She ground out through clenched teeth, "is the activation code?"

"'Ruby'. It will take you directly to one of the secure meeting rooms. You are expected."

The quill was deposited on the desk before the creature disappeared with a sharp crack. Silence pervaded for several moments. Finally, Integra let out the growl that had been wanting to get out since the goblin had appeared. Alucard leaned forward and read the message over her shoulder, letting out an appreciative whistle.

"Hoo. It seems you have no choice, Integra. The cunning of the goblins is admirable. As is the child's titles. It has been an age since last I saw the Wallach heritage displayed openly. No doubt they plan to recall the ring as well."

Leaning back in her chair, the blonde stared at the page contemplatively. "You of course realize what this means. If I have to, I will order you to behave yourself. That child has the power to expel us from this place. It is a danger which can not be risked by your usual antics."

"Why Master, I don't know what you mean. At most I would simply educate the boy on Hellsing politics."

That prompted a snort. She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. "You know perfectly well what I am speaking of." Switching subjects suddenly, she tapped her fingers on the parchment.

"What do his titles mean? 'Lord' is obvious enough, but I've never heard of the others."

Leaning against the desk, Alucard tilted his head and his amused expression turned thoughtful. A voice, like a buzzing insect inside his head prompted him back to grinning. Ah yes. How could he have forgotten the Master of the Mire? The seals flared slightly as he banished the insect from his presence. Such a shame that none of Salazar's heirs had ever reached their true potential.

"This Potter is an heir of Slytherin.... Heh, Gryffindor too. Highly unusual...." He trailed off for a moment, "The Slytherin family was spawned from the mires of East Anglia. One area in particular is so infused with wild magic from the Slytherin family's tampering that it will only admit those of the bloodline to access the old keep. Or those powerful enough to simply slip in with the fog."

He smirked as he continued. "The family has a number of _interesting _and _useful _items hoarded away. Gryffindor likewise is a family from Wales, the polar opposites of the Slytherin family in most everything. I believe this mansion was the original home that Gryffindor built upon coming to England. There is also Godric's Hollow in south Wales, a quaint little village that once upon a time was solely inhabited by the Gryffindor family. As for Wallach...."

Here he was truly hesitant to explain. Integra picked up on it and narrowed her eyes warningly. Making the question an order would not trouble her in the slightest. Frowning, Alucard closed his eyes and sighed. As he spoke, more voices rose in a deafening clamor for his attention. It was near unbearable. The fabric of his coat shuddered as he battled internally.

"The Wallach were my people. Ignorant pissants now days imagine they were _always_ gypsies and have forgotten their true nature. After my initial defeat at the hands of the Turks, my country was thrown into upheaval. Many cowards fled, others chose to convert to Islam or Catholicism and forsake me. However, a select few remained loyal to me, even as I slaughtered them with my newly awakened powers."

He could almost see it play out before his very eyes. The screams, the bloodshed, the bodies littering the tainted grass. Turk or Wallachian, it mattered not to him as he snuffed out and devoured every last living soul within range. Or so he had foolishly thought. Thirst rose within him at the memories, and he turned to face Integra with a sadistic grin.

"I murdered every last man, woman, and child in that forsaken capital! I rent flesh from bone, drank every last drop of blood even after the lust was sated, decapitated infants and strung them up on poles! All for the sake of doing the deed! The power! The energy that coursed through me, Integra! It was marvelous! And still, the few who survived the massacre bowed to me as their ruler! The warmongers, my soldiers, they saw my glorious feast and were hungered at the sight!"

Face split in an impossibly wide expression of delight at his Master's lack of visible reaction, he leaned down and spoke softly. The smile drew smaller but never died as he gazed into Integra's eyes, insane red into indifferent, cold blue.

"They bowed at my feet, kneeling in the blood and entrails of their wives, brothers, and children. They had marched to their deaths for me in life, and in death they would have thrown themselves on their own swords at my will. Wallachia was no more, and I had no use for such pitiful creatures, so I sent them on their path. Decades later, wandering the wilds of my homeland, I came across a band of gypsies camped under the moon. I intended to kill them, but imagine my surprise when I recognized one of my old generals leading them! And he still bowed to me even after all those years. In payment for his loyalty, I allowed he and his clan to live, and in exchange they pledged their undying allegiance to me.

"Over the centuries, our paths crossed several times and at each meeting they recognized me. It mattered not how long we strayed apart; the legend of the No Life King was never forgotten. Their lost heritage was carried on in name, each clansman honoring me in forsaking their father's name to take up that of Wallach. On a whim or fit of boredom, at one chance meeting, I allowed them to partake in my blood, finally repaying their never-wavering loyalty with substance. For years nothing ever came of it, until wizards were introduced into the clan. I admit, I do not know what effect the magic had on my blood, however I do know that it warped them, gave them abilities far greater than any human should have.

"That, my dear Integra, is what tickles my curiosity in regards to the wizard-child. If he is one of the descendants, my blood will still course through his veins just as strongly as it once did in his ancestors."

_July 25, 1991; 12:00pm, Gringotts, Secure Meeting Room_

Harry sat demurely in the same room as the previous day. His outward appearance showed none of his inner nerves at the situation. He was anxious to meet this Sir Hellsing and determine whether or not he would have a place to stay. Slight fear also ate away at him. What type of woman would Sir Hellsing be? Would she lock him away and starve him? Would she beat him like the Dursleys had? Never mind that she would have to sign a contract ensuring his continued safety and freedom under her care. Bloodclaw had assured him that she was an upstanding member of high society in the muggle world, but it did nothing to comfort.

Both Bloodclaw and Griphook were present, sitting on either side of him. Griphook murmured to him upon his arrival that four orcs were waiting outside the door in case things got out of hand. 'Orcs' were the specially bred warriors of goblin society, the two goblins explained quickly. They were both larger and stronger than normal goblins, trained to fight from birth. The lesser goblin hinted that Bloodclaw (and all head goblins) was one of the warriors. It made an odd sort of sense to Harry.

The group had been waiting for over an hour now, allowing Bloodclaw to explain his inheritance in fuller detail than the night before. According to the goblins, as explained the previous evening, the titles meant nothing of substance. The rings that went along with the titles were another matter. The rings themselves were mere symbols, yet held powerful enchantments on them, unique to the house and positions they represented.

Both the Potter house ring and Gryffindor Heir ring carried protection charms, shielding Harry from weak to moderate magical attacks, and deflecting physical attacks depending on the intent of the attacker. The charms would allow the blows to connect so long as they would not cause serious injury. The Slytherin family ring could detect poisons and dark magic; growing warm when poison was present in anything he touched, or glowing silver if an active dark spell was in his proximity. As with the actual lore, the Wallach rings power was not known with certainty. It was said that the chieftains of Wallach who wore the ring could summon wild animals to them.

They also informed him that all of his familial possessions had been transferred to their respective vaults, and the vaults themselves were unsealed. Bloodclaw had informed him that the Ministry knew of his claim, and laughed uproariously while Griphook explained that the Minister himself had shown up in the lobby looking green as a ripe skunk-fruit. He had been concerned that the Ministry may try barring him, but the goblins were quick to assure him that there was absolutely nothing legal they could do. The goblins guarded their investments jealously and vowed to respond with hostility if Harry experienced any illegal interference.

After the meeting Harry was planning on going down to the vaults to retrieve at least the Potter ring, deducting that since the enchantments on the Potter and Gryffindor rings were virtually the same, he would only need one. They all seemed like they could be useful to him, but Bloodclaw's warning regarding peoples reactions to the Master of the Mire stayed his hand. He also decided against using the Wallach ring until the goblins could do more research on it to see what it could actually do. Although, he was informed that the goblins could imbue spells on any of the rings to ensure people could not see it. He was still considering the proposal.

All thoughts on the matter ceased as a quiet pop heralded the arrival of Sir Hellsing and an older gentleman. Harry could not suppress a startled jerk and cringe at their sudden and close proximity. Everyone noted it. Uncomfortable silence hung in the air for a moment. Luckily Bloodclaw saved him. He took a few seconds composing himself once more as the goblins greeted and introduced the new arrivals. He watched cautiously as the woman shook Bloodclaw's hand without emotion.

"Sir Hellsing. I am Bloodclaw, Head Goblin and overseer of the Potter family affairs. This is Griphook, our witness. I fear I must apologize for the manner in which you were summoned here. Unforeseen events have occurred, as explain in the letter, and Lord Potter is in dire need of both a guardian and ample protection."

"Head Goblin Bloodclaw, this is my butler, Walter. He is here as my witness. After much thought, I have decided to accept your proposal. Let us be introduced to Mr. Potter and get the paper work in order. I have many arrangements that require overseeing back at the manor if the boy will be staying with us."

Though she offered no indication that she had even heard the goblin's apology, it did not seem to offend him. Harry stood from his seat at Griphook's urging and warily extended his hand to introduce himself. Cold blue eyes swept over him, taking in his over sized and dirty clothing, and the fact that they did not hide his obvious bout with starvation. They held no judgment even though it felt as if a heavy gavel were falling in his stomach at that look. Her grip was dry and firm in his small hand and offered no comfort to his quivering heart. Likewise, Mr. Walter simply nodded his head at Harry, eyes just as hard and assessing as Sir Integra's.

They all claimed seats around the table while the head goblin explained the adoption process to Harry and Integra. The affair was all rather simple. Everyone in the room would sign an official looking document proclaiming that Harry was now for all intents and purposes Integra's son. Less official, there was a separate blood contract which paraphrased the original letter to Integra, in addition to stating in no uncertain terms that all of Harry's needs would be met with Hellsing, including a paragraph expressly forbidding deliberate physical harm. At that section of the document, Integra had speared Harry with an unfathomable look, but signed both parchments without issue. The contracts circled the table collecting signatures, before Griphook literally disappeared from the room with them in hand.

"Now that business is out of the way, Lord Potter will need to collect his school supplies and visit his family vaults. Simply return here and a portkey will be waiting with Griphook to return you to the Potter-Hellsing Mansion. Mister Potter, you may wait in the lobby for Griphook if you wish, however filing your paper work may take some time. He will take you down to the vaults when he is finished. Let him know what you want done with the rings. I must take my leave. Good day."

Thus found Harry alone in the meeting room with two strangers. An awkward silence filled the air as the three regarded each other warily. Harry did not allow himself to fidget or his blank mask to fall. He would have to tread with caution around Sir Integra until he could get her measure. The contract was air tight where she was concerned, but that did not stop his worry. There were loopholes in everything, and though she would not be able to physically abuse him, there were other forms of torture. Startled, he jumped when Integra spoke up suddenly.

"We are on a tight schedule. Let us get your school things and wrap up our business here in London. Do you need to draw out money?"

"Er... no. I don't need to get any money, Sir."

"Good. Walter, please accompany him on his errands. I believe I will return to the manor and confirm the troop arrangements."

With that she exited the room, giving neither of them room for refusal. Walter motioned Harry to follow him, neither speaking until after they reached the outside. The old retainer paused on the steps of Gringotts and gave Harry a small smile. For some reason it caused a knot that had built in his chest to ease. Up until this point, neither of the Hellsing representatives had shown any emotion what so ever. Harry had feared they were uppity aristocrat types like the Dursleys had futilely attempted to emulate. His voice was well cultured, however it had a light friendliness as he addressed Harry, giving him his full attention.

"Have you your list of school things, Lord Potter?"

"Yes, sir. Only, please, call me Harry." He finally allowed himself a twitch to show his discomfort. All this 'Lord' business embarrassed him. He was Harry. Just Harry. It was nice to be addressed with such respect for once, however he was beginning to despise the formality. It was also unwise to advertise his last name to everyone in the street. Harry was a common enough name by itself. Thankfully Walter nodded.

"Very well, Harry, call me Walter in turn. Where would you like to go first?"

Harry thought for a moment before motioning towards one of the shops down past the Magical Menagerie. "I would like to get my wand first, please."

The man nodded his approval, "Of course. Lead the way, Harry."

So he did. Luckily he knew the way from his wanderings before Griphook had fetched him for the meeting earlier in the day. He had intended to go in, but the goblin must have spotted him down the lane as he exited Gringotts, as he had been waylaid just before entering. The cramped little shop was filled with wall-to-wall boxes that housed wands of infinite variety. Upon stepping in, they were assaulted by the dim lighting and musty odor. There appeared to be no one there at first glance. Movement in a shadowed corner immediately drew their attention, however. Harry was too paranoid, and Walter too well trained, to allow anyone to sneak up on them.

A man stepped into the faint light, allowing them a glimpse at his features. He was an older gentleman, hair a stark gray, wearing dark robes. His eyes were like luminous moons as he peered at them curiously. Those eyes unsettled Harry.

"Harry Potter, I have been expecting you. Your father's wand wasMahogany, 11 inches, pliable and excellent for Transfiguration. You mother, on the other hand, favored one more suited for charms work and delicate potions making; Willow, 10 ¼, swishy. And- oh my... Mr. Dornez. It has been an age since last I saw you in my shop. Oak, 9 and a half, whippy, with a single dragon heart string given from a mother dragon. I remember every wand I've ever sold."

The last said in response to Harry's incredulous look. He was rather soft spoken, with a mysterious air about him. Harry stepped forward at his bidding and held out his right arm as instructed. Mr. Ollivander took measurements for a moment before scurrying about the shop collecting wand boxes from the shelves. With a start, Harry realized the tape measure was still floating about him measuring all of his extremities. Even between his nostrils!

"Yes, I found it necessary to take up work outside of the wizarding world." Walter explained in response to Ollivander's query as he took a seat in a rickety old chair by the door.

"You were exiled as I heard tell. I suppose they snapped your wand. What a shame."

Glancing at the retainer curiously, Harry saw that he was clenching his jaw rather savagely. He flinched slightly at the look in his eyes. Eyes could say everything about a person, Harry had learned. The Dursleys had often been cruel to him by offering him rewards, only their eyes had given away their malice and true intent. Like the time Petunia had attempted to make him drink down anti-freeze by telling him it was a new type of beverage for 'dear children' such as himself. She had seemed so sincere at the time, save her eyes. Walter's eyes were veiled heavily with ire and sadness. When finally he spoke, his voice was cold and even.

"Yes. The Ministry accused me of being a Knight of Walpurgis, as I remember. Just after I had helped liberate Warsaw."

"Well you can hardly blame them. It was unjust, but they were doing what was right by them at the time. What were they to think? What with you keeping company with dark beasts such as Vlad, it's surprising they did not have you executed for treason. Mind you, this was also before Hellsing became an official branch of the Ministry."

Ollivander waved the tape measure away impatiently and handed Harry a length of wood. "Give it a wave, dear boy." He said absently as he gazed unblinkingly at Walter. Harry complied. When nothing happened, Ollivander snatched it from his grasp and gave him another. The process continued as the two adults held their conversation.

"That hardly warrants banishment. You know as well as I do that Veritaserum was being used in trials even back then. They could have questioned me under the influence and garnered the truth thusly."

"That is true. But you can not deny that you were regarded as a highly suspicious character back then. They _should _have questioned you under a truth serum given your age, but as you know it was in short supply back then. Suspected Knights were being dragged in left, right, and center. I remember quite keenly that many of the Ministry Potions Masters were fainting dead away over their cauldrons from exhaustion! Why, it was worse than the war with Voldemort in that regard."

Walter shook his head sharply. "The Ministry was simply looking for an easy target. A fourteen year old boy found in the company of a master vampire was a prime scapegoat. Never mind that we saved thousands of people from ghouls and lesser undead. There were even muggles vouching for me. They could have listened, but chose not to. But the past is past. Let us drop the matter."

The back and forth conversation made Harry feel slightly woozy. He understood that Walter had been banished from the wizarding world for saving people. The terminology confused him though. He noted to ask Walter about it later, once the man had calmed down. While he appeared composed and dispassionate, his words spoke loud and clear as to his current state of mind.

After nearly a half hour of futile wand waves and swishes, Ollivander seemed positively bursting with excitement. "A tricky customer! I wonder...."

He wandered into a back room briefly, reemerging carrying two wands. He stared at Harry curiously for several moments before carefully holding out both wands for him to try. Both hummed under his fingers as he held them awkwardly, one in his left hand, the other in his right. As he brought them up in a swish, they both emitted bursts of dazzling light. He squinted as it dissipated and stared down in amazement. Ollivander clapped his hands and bounced slightly while grinning. He looked like a child who had just received their heart's greatest wish.

"Wonderful, Mister Potter! Curious though.... Very curious."

Tilting his head, Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Sorry sir, but what's curious?"

"Mister Potter, never has there been a person who could possess two wands at a single time! Truly, a wizard normally can only have one wand at a time that works for them. Every wand chooses its master, not the other way around. And they have a habit of misfiring if used by someone that is not their master. It is curious that two wands would have chosen to work together for you, and even more curious that it is these two wands in particular that have chosen you." He seemed to hesitate before going on.

"The wand in your right hand is Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. The phoenix who gave its tail feather for this wand gave only one other feather. Each wand is unique, never are any two wands ever alike. The wand which houses the other feather is the brother to this wand. It belonged to the man... who gave you that scar." Ollivander's hand crept up, just short of touching Harry's scar.

"I am sad to say, Mister Potter, that I am the one who sold the wand. For it to have been used for such evil things... evil... but great...."

He seemed to shake himself out of some sort of trance and he dropped his hand, gesturing to the wand in Harry's left hand. The news shocked Harry, as well as Ollivander's tone. He seemed to be in awe as he talked about the deeds of his parents' murderer. The next words broke his irritation though, giving way to intrigue.

"That, my boy, Is called the Elder Wand. Ebony and a single hair from a master vampire, twelve inches, whippy. It holds immense power. Do not use it unless you absolutely have to, and let no one know of its true nature. I came by the wand by chance, after a great battle was fought right here in the Alley. The two duelists were so preoccupied with each other that neither noticed when I switch this wand with one of lesser power. That wand is of a fickle sort. It never truly chooses anyone to be its master. Before now that is. Legend goes that anyone who defeats the one who currently possesses it will become its master. But you have just proven everyone wrong."

A pained look suddenly crossed his face. Harry was slightly alarmed by it. Ollivander's eyes looked impossibly wide as he gazed off into space. It was only by Walter's clearing of throat that the other man jolted back to attention. He gazed keenly at Harry as he explained quietly.

"I can say no more. Certain... contracts... restrict me. I hope you understand." Slightly louder this time, "The Holly wand is seven galleons, the other is free."

Harry suspected that Walter was just as glad to be out of the wand shop as he was. The conversations had been all too confusing, and Harry could feel a pounding headache forming behind his eyes. They were both silently lost in thought as they made their way from shop to shop collecting his supplies. First to a trunk shop for a magical storage unit to keep his things in, then the apothecary, next the bookstore. They spent a while perusing the numerous shelves; Harry grabbing several books on wizarding history and something called the 'dark arts' in addition to the required reading for school. Upon seeing his additional purchases, Walter had lifted an eyebrow at him but kept silent in lieu of his own purchase of a book titled, '_Dark Spells For Dark Times'_.

It was only after he had gotten everything on his list that he paused, looking up at Walter with caution in his eyes. The older man glanced back at him with an odd sort of lopsided smile. Unused to speaking so much in a single day, and still unsure of the man, Harry's words came out small and hesitant. It felt extremely odd for Harry to be asking an adult for anything and he was afraid of the possible responses he would receive. However, to his relief, his query seemed to soften the man's severe features.

"Um, si- Walter? Would... Sir Integra allow me to have a pet?"

"Hmm?" Walter hummed in thought before answering. "I don't see why not. So long as you take care of it and it does not cause any trouble. We keep a number of guard dogs and one or two owls for... special occasions, so one or two more will not do any harm."

Harry's face lit up in a grin at that. He could not help himself. The Dursleys had never let him have a pet before, and Dudley had killed all of the ones Petunia had given as birthday and Christmas presents. The letter had said he could have an owl, a cat, or a toad. He rather fancied the thought of a cat, or even an owl. There was a slight spring to his step as he eagerly led the retainer towards the Magical Menagerie. He only hoped that the man would not change his mind, or that Sir Integra would not be angry once they got to the manor.

Upon entering the shop, Harry and Walter went their separate ways, Walter wandering over to the owl supply section, and Harry to the owls themselves. Several minutes were spent eying the various types of avian familiars, however none of the owls seemed appealing to him. He was about to give up and inform Walter that he was ready to leave, when a quiet squawk startled him. A great black shape swooped down from a shadowed corner of the shop and alighted on his shoulder. Blinking up at the thing, he was startled with the realization that it was a raven.

The shopkeeper made her way over and grinned like a loon at him. That look made him nervous, but he stood his ground and nodded quietly to her as she opened her mouth and began rattling off long and obscure facts about ravens. Only about half of what she said made sense to him, but he got the gist of it. Ravens were highly intelligent, and able to carry mail like regular owls, they were happy eating owl fare, and this one in particular had been around humans long enough to be able to mimic sounds and even a few words. He caught the word 'discount' in the jumble of cockney slang, and simply to get the woman to leave him alone, he agreed readily to purchasing the bird.

With much relief Harry stepped outside the shop, Walter at his side and raven perched primly on his shoulder. The bloody bird had put up such a fuss when he tried putting the raven in a cage that he had relented and left it free for the time being. Said 'bloody bird' in reference to the shop keeper and not the raven, who seemed just as content to sit silently and run its beak through his already unruly hair. The entire episode had greatly amused Walter, who even now sported a small grin in light of Harry's disgruntlement.

Extracting a pocket watch from his vest, Walter directed them back to Gringotts, informing him that they needed to be quick about going to his vaults so as to reach Hellsing manor in a timely fashion. Griphook was waiting outside one of the tunnels in the lobby and greeted them curtly. The cold response caused Harry to flinch. The thought immediately entered his mind that, what if goblins were just like humans? Both accompanying males did not miss the slip of emotion, and Griphook spoke again, more quietly.

"I apologize, Lord Potter. I did not mean for my temper to be directed at you. Dealing with the Ministry is extremely trying at times. Please follow me to your vaults; your pet will have to remain up here."

Without prompting, the bird ruffled its fathers and took off, circling the lobby twice, and settled itself merrily on top of a teller's pointed hat. Contrary to expectation, the goblin merely grumbled in irritation before going back to his work. The sight upped Harry's mood slightly, prompting a small twitch of the lips in a show of amusement. He and Walter followed their goblin guide down the tunnels, which slanted downward heavily before evening out before a small railroad track. Griphook gave a sharp whistle and a cart zoomed down the tracks, halting in front of them.

They climbed in with Griphook manning the lever controlling the carts speeds. He shot them a nasty grin before he jerked the lever down as far as it would go.

"Only one speed."

.

.

* * *

**Note: **Thank you to Lego Land for your awesome review! I always liked the idea of different magical creatures having different cultures than what wizards are familiar with and always try to put some spin on Goblin culture when I can in my stories! Although, I borrowed some from Elder Scrolls and Tolkien to build my version of the Harry Potter goblins in this story. As for snakes, I love them both as animals and as potential sentient magical creatures; I decided to play on their real life habits as well as their HP canon reactions to speaking with a wizard. It seemed that even so-called 'muggle' boa constrictors were more intelligenct than anyone gave them credit for.


	5. Hellsing Manor

~^ Chapter 5 ~^

The ride was exhilarating! The track was rather like a roller coaster as it wove and dodged its way through the tunnels at impossible speed. The tunnels were like a labyrinth, and on more than one occasion it seemed that they would run headlong into a dead end, before the tracks would swerve suddenly down a different corridor. Not able to help himself, Harry threw his arms up and laughed loudly in elation as the cart hurtled down sharp inclines and jerked them about. This was rather like he imaged flying to be, what with how fast they were going. Glancing down a side-tunnel on the way past, he could swear he saw an eruption of flames and a flash of glittery scales. It was the most amazing ride of his life.

The cart ground to a halt all too soon for Harry's liking. Climbing from the cart rather shakily, he grinned like a madman at Griphook, who was shaking his head at the boy looking amused. To his credit, Walter also appeared to have enjoyed the ride, though he refused to do anything so unseemly as Harry. At least Harry was not reprimanded for showing his emotions.

The retainer waited in the cart as Harry and Griphook approached a line of vault doors on the narrow walkway. Glancing at them all curiously, Harry posed a question.

"Do you know what each vault contains?"

"I do, Lord Potter. I would recommend investigating the Potter family vault first, as I believe that is where all of the rings were deposited. There is also a family tree contained within which you may wish to study."

The goblin strode over to one of the doors and extended a clawed finger, trailing it across the surface. With a rumble, the door swung open revealing its contents. Harry was in awe. Stacks of gold, silver, and bronze rose high above his head; cluttered shelves of books, and chests overflowing with jewels of every kind took up most of the space not occupied by the money. In the center of it all stood a simple wooden table, upon which sat several items. He stepped into the vault cautiously, eying the haphazard stacks of coins warily, wondering if they would topple over onto him. They did not, to his relief.

Stopping in front of the table, he saw two rings. One gold with rubies inset in the band, and the other, a simple silver band with Celtic knot work etched into the metal. Upon closer inspection he realized the knot work was actually depictions of snakes. Sat beside the rings were a scroll tied with a rich burgundy ribbon and a thick envelope with his name on it. Shock coursed through him at that. Snatching the envelope, he hesitated only a moment before breaking the blank seal to open it. Several thick sheets of parchment were nestled within. He unfolded the topmost document and stared at it blankly for several moments before the words began to make sense.

_'Dear Harry,_

_You'll find everything you need to know within these papers. There are some things that need said before too many pleasantries can be addressed. First of all, no matter what anyone tells you, never blame yourself for our deaths. Second, yes, we knew we were going to snuff it; I'll leave the specifics to your mother, I've never been good at explaining things in detail. Third, and most important, take a look at the family tree. It's the scroll that the goblins should have left next to these letters. _

_You should find some enlightening information contained in that tree. Hopefully you'll at least have been raised knowing about the different pureblood families. If not, then I would recommend getting a book called 'Purebloods Through the Ages' by Christopher Chant. What's important about the contents of the tree isn't in the name, it's in the blood, or more specifically, the Titles, which Bloodclaw hopefully explained to you since you're reading this letter right now. As a side: Only you could be reading this letter right now, as Moony and Lily both enchanted these letters to insult those of non-Potter/Evans blood who attempts to open them. Ingenious really._

_Another useful tidbit, I would recommend using all the titles to your full advantage. The Master of the Mire one is tricky, but I'm sure some of Lily's cunning would have been passed onto you. How the woman got into Gryffindor is beyond me. But that's beside the point. I'm rooting for you to get into Gryffindor, but it will be completely fine with me if you chose another house, even Slytherin. How could I mind, with your mother being who she is? I'm getting off topic. _

_In the Potter Vault, find the black school trunk with my initials on it, and look for a purple book with gold trim. It's a diary myself and the other Marauders (Me, Sirius, Remus, and the rat) made detailing how we accomplished the Animagus Transformation. It's a highly useful skill to have in a tight situation. Just don't get caught. It will be difficult for you to accomplish the transformation so young, but I have faith in you. At the very least you can research the methods and prepare for it mentally until you feel you're skilled enough to manage it. The transformation itself isn't monitored by the Ministry, as it doesn't require a wand, so you can practice over the summer. It is highly illegal not to register with the Ministry though, so I'll repeat: DO NOT GET CAUGHT. _

_I'll talk more in another letter, but these things needed said more than anything else. _

_Love,_

_James Potter, _

_You're dad.'_

Harry slowly lowered the letter and stared at the table blankly in silent wonder. As everything else he had learned in the past day or two, it made his head reel. His parents had written him letters, with the knowledge that they would die. How it was possible, he didn't know, but then, his dad had said that his mum would explain in her letters. He carefully bundled up the letters and slipped them back into the envelope before turning to stare at Griphook. The goblin smirked back at him from the doorway.

"Are there any bags available that will allow me to carry a few items?"

"Why yes, Lord Potter, there are." The smirk widened, "On the back bookshelf to the left is a leather sack. It can hold up to twenty items of any size or weight without outwardly effecting the size, shape, or weight of the bag itself. It is capable of hold more, depending on the weight and size of the items in question."

"Thank you."

Pondering his father's words, he tilted his head to the side, still observing the goblin. "Griphook, in your opinion, just how many people at Hogwarts would possibly recognize the Slytherin ring?"

"I can't say with certainty, Lord Potter. The ring has been out of sight for many centuries, and there are many false descriptions of it within certain books. Previous bearers of it have had it imbued with invisibility."

Nodding thoughtfully to himself, Harry turned back to the table and picked up the rings. They were light, but held a certain insubstantial weight to them that he could not describe. Slipping the Potter ring onto his right index finger, a comforting warmth spread through him, radiating from the ring. The Slytherin ring produced the same effect as he placed it on his right ring finger. They resized to fit his frail, bony hand, though he hid his surprise at that. He only allowed himself a moments pause for consideration before moving over to the appointed shelf and taking the leather sack.

He spotted a black trunk sitting shoved between two bookcases and blinked, marveling at his luck. Making his way over to it, he examined the lid and sure enough, stamped on one corner in gold leaf writing, were the initials '_J.P.' _He opened it with a certain amount of reverence. This trunk had once belonged to his father. There were many different items contained within. From a set of old school robes, to text books, to a strange walnut-sized gold ball with wings. Shifting carefully through the things he paused in thought. He could just take the entire trunk with him. There were a few things contained within that caught his interest, that he would love to examine more thoroughly. Making his decision, and not wanting to delay Walter any more than he already had, he turned once more to glance at the helpful goblin.

"Er, how would I go about fitting this in the bag?"

Chucking, the goblin explained that all he needed to do was fit the bag over one corner of the trunk and it would briefly expand to 'swallow' the trunk up. Harry was skeptical, but followed the direction. He placed the open sack over one of the corners, holding it by the flap so as not to let it fall off. For a moment he thought it would do nothing. Finally, it shuddered and seemed to yawn, stretching to impossible girth to easily devour the trunk. Or so it appeared to Harry as he watched with wide-eyed amazement. He didn't even have to pull the bag over the length of it, the bag simply seemed to wriggle and contract like a snake to 'eat' the trunk.

Overcoming his shock, he picked the bag up and was pleased to note the goblin was right about it not gaining additional weight. Making his way back to the table he also slipped the parchments into the bag before turning away back to the vault entrance. He was finished here for now. He figured he could always come back at a later date to comb through all the vaults for any interesting items. He was getting anxious now, at the prospect of going to Hellsing manor. His nerves had been repressed up to that point due simply to the exciting prospect of seeing his vaults.

The ride back to the surface was just as fantastic as the ride down, but Harry could not find it in himself to react. He was silent and introverted for the walk to the lobby. Once again his fears of the situation were playing at the fore of his mind. Walter seemed to catch on to his mood, as the older man smiled at him reassuringly as he accepted the portkey from Griphook. Thankfully the butler seemed to know what Harry was going through, at least emotion-wise, and did not question him on his silence.

Portkeys were rather annoying to use, Harry soon found out. As Walter spoke the activation word, he had the sensation of a fishhook tugging behind his navel, and then he was falling... falling while being pulled backward? The sensation didn't hurt, but it did make him feel queasy and unstable on his feet once he was slammed back onto solid ground. The shock of the experience caused him to flinch violently when Walter reached out to steady him.

A panic attack would have gripped him had he not glanced around and been shocked to stillness at the entrance hall he found himself in. The place was huge! Or at least bigger than anything Harry had seen previous, outside of London architecture. Pale marble and dark wood made up the floor and walls, portraits, tapestries, and antique vases decorated the room, along with an odd suit of armor or two. A grand wooden staircase twisted up two landings before leading to the first level of the house.

Harry rather felt like he was in a museum. He was nearly afraid to touch anything for fear of breaking something as Walter led him up the flight of stairs from the ground floor. The butler seemed to be in his prime, pointing out different hallways and rooms of interest as they passed, and informing Harry of some of the known history of the place. Harry of course knew the bare facts from his conference with Bloodclaw, but it fascinated him to listen as Walter talked about which royal family member stayed in that room, or what murder took place at that hallway.

They stopped in front of a closed door in the East Wing of the manor, and the boy was relieved to hear that he would not be meeting with Sir Integra right away. Opening the door, he was presented with one of four master bedrooms. It was far bigger than the master bedroom in Surrey. The size was comparable to a small flat, at nearly four hundred feet squared. A massive four poster bed sat in the center of the room, against the back wall opposite the door, with lavish furnishings scattered throughout. A large window took up one wall. Dizziness made his vision swim. The place was fit for a king! Not useless, orphan-boy Harry.

The retainer seemed to think otherwise.

"These will be your rooms for however long you wish to stay within the manor. Sir Integra asks that you please stay in your rooms until time allows for a full tour of the estate, for your safety. The manor is rather large and it is easy for newcomers to get lost. Afternoon tea will be brought up shortly, and dinner is served at seven o'clock. Will there be anything you require until then?"

"Er...." Harry trailed off and blushed, looking at his feet. Bruises and mild cuts were still causing him pain with every movement. Normally he would ignore the pain and push on in spite of it, however things had changed. No longer was he with the Dursleys, and despite his fears to the contrary, his logic informed him that he would no longer have to hold his silence when it came to his own well being. The request for help could not be budged past his lips, however.

The older man gazed at him kindly over his monocle. "Lord Potter, anything you need, simply ask. If it is discretion you require, rest assured I will do my utmost best to meet your needs."

The assurance was appreciated, but Harry still could not bring himself to ask. Instead, trembling slightly, he dropped the bottomless bag to the floor and reached up to tug the neck of his baggy shirt down past his collar bone. Ugly green and black marred his pale skin. Walter's back stiffened and he seemed to pale slightly, but gave no other outward reaction. Simply, the man walked through the door to the wash closet and returned seconds later carrying a first aid kit.

"You will need to remove your shirt and sit. Are there any broken bones?"

The retainer carried the kit over to a side table and gestured to one of the accompanying seats. Harry complied reluctantly, not at all comfortable with letting anyone see the marks of his weakness. He had been the fool who opened his mouth about it in the first place though. Stripping his shirt, he fidgeted and watched the man like a hawk as he brought out alcohol swabs, bandages, and ointments for his wounds.

In response to the inquiry about broken bones, Harry simply shook his head, not willing to speak at the moment. There had been no familiar grating feeling of bone against bone, nor had he lost use of any of his limbs. The expression on his face did not change throughout the process of cleaning the open wounds, even the deep ones that should have received stitching. He noted the butler's gaze lingering over the odd tattoos on his chest and finally spoke up, albeit quietly.

"I don't know where those came from. I've always had them. My relatives said they were there even when I was left on their doorstep when I was a year old."

He refrained from mentioning that they had been a source of constant beatings from his uncle once the man had first let his fists loose on Harry. They had claimed that his freakish parents had probably gone bonkers and done it to him themselves during a drunken stupor. That story had been believable up until the black serpent had corrected his view of both himself and the world. No way would he reveal his secrets to these people. It was horrible enough that Walter now knew about the beatings.

The man made quick work of it, thankfully, and said nothing more until the kit was re-packed and the remnants tossed in the waste bin. He stood and regarded Harry for a moment before sighing.

"I will not mention this to Sir Integra, for the time being. Believe it or not, I _do _understand. However should any future complications arise surrounding this matter, I _will _tell her. You are now Sir Integra's ward, and by proxy under her, and my, protection. Once you get settled in, I recommend you inform her of what your... family... was like."

Hot relief and cold confusion were left in the butler's wake as he exited the room and shut the door.

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**Note: **Now, before you all lynch me for that by-now-cliche at the beginning of the chapter, there really wasn't a better way of having Harry find out a few important things about himself and his family without drawing it out obnoxiously over several long chapters. Read a few more chapters before you give up on my writing ability. Now, I know for a fact that there are probably a few errors in this chapter. How do I know this? I'm hungover and sleep deprived. Spell check is God, but I'll go back over it in the morning and make corrections as needed in case I wrote in any discrepancies.

As always, I love my reviewers, and I will try to get the next chapter out quicker. Real life is kicking my ass at the moment, so I can't guarantee much beyond the fact that indeed, the next chapter _will _be posted before hell freezes over.

Check my Profile for a Poll regarding pairings for this story. And I think I mentioned last chapter (or it could have been in an entirely different story, idk) that I tend to post news updates on my stories on my authors page. I like keeping my readers informed *hugs* I pass out now.

~Black-Raven3


	6. Revelations

~^Chapter 6~^

_July 25, 1991; 2:47pm, Hellsing Headquarters, Office_

"How has the boy settled in, Walter?"

Integra stared wearily at the tumbler of bourbon in her hand. It was far too early in the afternoon to be drinking, however she felt the situation warranted it. Being coerced into becoming the guardian of an abused, emotionally scarred, wizard-child was a valid excuse in her opinion.

Of course she knew of, rather, suspected the abuse. The signs were clear as day to anyone with eyes and a brain. The secrecy of the goblins in describing the boy's situation. The fact that the contracts she signed specifically and unnecessarily forbade any type of abuse. Said boy's starved appearance, the way he flinched at most unexpected movement, and his apparent shyness and lack of emotional reaction to things were also dead give-aways.

Walter's grim appearance also confirmed her suspicions. The butler was pale and looked vaguely murderous as he came at attention in front of her desk. His voice was tightly controlled and cold as he answered.

"I suspect it shall take some time for him to become accustomed to such lavish accommodations. However he seems to be settling in nicely."

Integra sighed, "And his physical and mental state?"

"... Well, Sir."

The hesitation told the Knight a different story. Sipping from the glass, blue eyes speared the retainer with a demanding stare. Walter 's tone was sharp, startling Integra. She had not heard such a tone from him since she was a little girl. It was usually reserved for when she was doing or saying something exceedingly stupid, that she should know was incorrect.

"I gave Harry my word that I would speak nothing of it to you. The same oath that I am sure the _goblins _gave him before contacting you about becoming his guardian, to a lesser degree. I need only say that the medical supplies in his wash closet will have to be refilled."

The rebuttal stung, but Integra did not comment on it. Despite his supposed oath to the boy, he had given her all the information she needed. He had indeed been abused, however Walter had already seen to his injuries.

All for the better. The idea that a child had been abused was disturbing enough without having it confirmed. Integra was unsure if she could have personally seen to it without going into a rage at seeing the evidence first hand. Walter's foul mood was forgivable under the circumstances.

Her attention wavered back to the retainer as he continued on a less solemn note.

"All of his school things were purchased, including a messenger bird. He will need new clothing post haste. I can see to it in the morning with your approval, Sir."

"Of course, Walter."

"Very good, Sir. What arrangements have been made with Alucard? Doubtless he will wish to meet the boy himself."

Integra sighed and sipped from the glass. The burning liquid was soothing as she pondered her response. While she had given Alucard orders to remain unobtrusive, and to not bother Lord Potter, there were countless ways he could circumvent such broad and unspecific rules. She could keep the vampire confined to his rooms, but that would only exacerbate the situation if and when he were let out.

After a long pause, she sighed again. "I believe that the best course of action would be to introduce them, rather than let Alucard take matters into his own hands. Once Lord Potter is settled in and more at ease. If the boy is going to be living here, he needs to become use to Alucard and his quirks. He will also need to be trained in case Hellsing manor were ever attacked."

"With your leave, Sir, I would be willing to tutor him in weapons. Perhaps twice a week to begin with after he settles in?"

Nodding, Integra looked thoughtful as another, lighter, possibility occurred to her. Smirking slightly at Walter as she finished off the contents of her glass, she thought aloud, "Well, at least now the Queen and uncouth suitors will be forced to cease pushing for me to acquire an heir. Legally, Lord Potter is now my son, and therefor heir to Hellsing."

Walter laughed as he bowed out of the room, "Congratulations, Sir Integra."

Predictably, to Integra, the moment the door closed, Alucard appeared at his usual place by her side. He looked thoughtful and solemn, a different presentation than normal. The source of the sudden change intrigued her but she refused to ask her servant what was bothering him. She could guess.

"You were spying on our new arrival."

"Of course, Master. It is only right to assess his worth to the Organization."

Integra lit a cigar and inhaled slowly, waiting for the insane vampire to explain his presence in her office. For once, he obliged without prompting.

"He is certainly of the original Wallachian line. I can sense some of his power, and he looks remarkably similar to my old general. Those eyes are unmistakeable. He has been severely abused and neglected, but with some work, he could become a great asset."

"My orders still hold. You are not to approach him unless I say otherwise."

Alucard grinned and bowed mockingly, "Of course my Master. But what if he requests my presence?"

His tone gave the Hellsing a moment for pause. He sounded far too smug and knowing. She glared at him sharply and tapped her fingers hard against the surface of the desk.

"How would he know to request your presence, when he does not even know of your existence, vampire? Cease this intrusion at once, and return to your chambers. I have work to do."

With a smirk, he was gone. A feeling of foreboding encompassed Integra as she pondered his words. He knew something that she did not, and it irked her. The boy was just a child, surely he knew nothing of Alucard. The tales of the No Life King were lost during the Nazi invasions of the World Wars. Perhaps his family may have kept records of them, however it was unlikely. With a frown, Integra snuffed out her cigar.

Wondering about such things would do her no good. She had paper work to catch up on. Later, when she could meet with the boy at length, she would get her answers. Until then there was no use speculating.

_July 25, 1991; 2:47pm, Hellsing Headquarters, East Wing Master Bedroom_

Now alone for the first time all day, and no longer in pain, Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Picking up the bag, he sat gingerly on the bed and opened it. He startled a bit as he peered inside and saw that the inside was far bigger than the outside; two trunks, a cauldron, and random books and scrolls of parchment that he realized must have already been inside the bag when he took it from Gringotts.

He stood and re-situated himself on the floor before reaching inside to tug at the handle of the black trunk. With an odd squelching noise the bag easily yawned wide enough for him to pull the trunk out. It came far more easily that he expected it to, landing him on his back from an overzealous pull. Wincing, he pushed the trunk off his lap and scowled slightly at the bag.

From observing it, it acted almost like a snake would when devouring our giving up the objects within. The concept intrigued him, however he had other goals in mind as he more carefully pulled out his personal school trunk. Next to come out were the loose books and scrolls, the letters and scroll from his parents being reverently set to the side, separate from the others. The items he did not recognize were stacked next to the bed for later investigation.

Task complete, he hesitated, hand hovering over his parents letters. Nerves enveloped him. What would the letters contain? They seemed fairly serious, from reading the first one from his Dad. Doubt warred with curiosity for a moment, before he realized that either way, he would need to read the letters in their entirety. Things were so confusing now that he was away from the Dusleys, and they were moving too fast; he could barely keep up. He needed all the information he could get if he wanted to follow through with any of his plans.

Before he could second guess himself, he snatched up the envelope and took out the parchments. His father's letter was set carefully on the edge of the bed, while the unread ones were kept in his lap. Drawing in a deep breath, he picked up the next letter in the stack, and read. It turned out to be from his mother.

'_Dear Harry, _

_As I'm sure your father has already expressed to you, we love you, no matter what. Our deaths were not your fault. James and I took a calculated risk in going against the Dark Lord Voldemort, and it was Voldemort himself who chose to attack us and kill us. Writing this letter now, I am sure without a shadow of a doubt that James and I are dead by the time you are reading this. _

_We were two very important members of a resistance group known as the Order of the Phoenix. Voldemort was heading a war in England, and we were the only ones fighting his tyrannical, bigoted ideals. Three times we came against Voldemort face to face, and three times we refused his silver-tongued offers of wealth and protection, if only we defected to his ranks. It is not within the heart of an Evans or a Potter to lay down without a fight. _

_When you were born, we knew that we needed to go into hiding, to protect you. Doubly so because we heard news from an old friend of mine that a prophecy had been made, regarding you and the Dark Lord. You fit the prophecy perfectly, as far as we could tell. My friend only heard part of it before he was discovered and forced to flee. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies"._

_It was at the suggestion of Headmaster Dumbledore that we went into hiding under the guise of a powerful spell called the Fidelius Charm. The charm works by cloaking the target from sight of all who do not know where the target is located. At first, James was going to be the Secret Keeper. As Secret Keeper of the charm, James would have been the only one capable of revealing our location to anyone. However Dumbledore convinced us that we needed to stay in contact with the Order, and as such, someone outside the charms effects would have to be chosen to keep the secret. Dumbledore himself wanted to be that person, however we did not trust him. _

_Dumbledore is a great man in his own right, but he is human. He had his own goals in the war, not just protecting people from Voldemort. Instead, we chose our friend Sirius Black as the secret keeper. Somehow, someone got to Sirius before the charm could be cast though. We are not sure who, but we suspect the Headmaster. Moments before the charm was set to be cast, Sirius came to us and said that he was not fit to be the secret keeper, due to his family ties to some of Voldemort's followers. He convinced us to go with another friend, Peter Pettigrew. _

_Peter was always a suspicious character to me, however with Remus' condition as a werewolf, he was too vulnerable to take up the position. Voldemort's followers could have easily gotten to poor Remus during his transformations. There was no one else we could trust. While I did not trust Peter, James did. It was either Peter or Dumbledore, since my only other trusted friend was... unavailable. _

_In the end, I don't think even James fully trusted Peter, but we had not other choice. We set it up so that everyone thought Sirius was still the secret keeper. The perfect decoy. If only Peter were not the rat his __likeness suggested.... _

_There are official documents contained in the envelope with these letters, which we and the goblins drew up, under oath, confiding the real identity of our secret keeper. If Sirius took the fall for us, and he is still alive, the Ministry will have no choice but to clear him of all charges pertaining to our deaths. _

_Also, if Remus John Lupin is still alive, and not in hiding, I would suggest contacting him. He can tell you more about us, and not just about our war efforts. Remus was a good friend, I am saddened that he may have thought we assumed him a spy simply because of his condition. If you can find him and he is alive and well, there are two letters for him. One from me, and one from James. _

_This letter may seem impersonal, and I am sorry for that. These things need to come to light before anything else. James was always the joker, thinking of fun before practicality. I know he told you about the animagus transformation. All I can say is I know you can do it. You come from several strong blood lines, with equally strong magical ties. Achieve the transformation as soon as you can; it will help you in the long run._

_If you were placed with my sister and her husband, and if you are still with them for some reason, contact the Hellsing Organization, headed by Sir Arthur Hellsing, or his daughter, Integra Hellsing. They currently reside in the original Potter family home, and under the goblin laws, you are legally able to reside within the manor, with or without the Hellsings' consent. If my sister and her husband treated you as they treated me, get out of there. Hellsing can not refuse you._

_The Potter Manor also contains important information about your heritage. The Head of Hellsing can tell you more. I only hope that they did not destroy anything after all these years. Ask Arthur or Integra about the No Life King. As Chieftain of Wallach, descendent of Jonathan Harker, and official owner of the estate, you have a right to know. The King can help you master some of your talents. Take care around him, however. If he is still in existence, he will still be the silver-tongued trickster and warmonger of the old tales. _

_Unfortunately this is my only letter to you. It will hopefully aid you in what ever life you chose to live. If you wish to know about me as your mother, my diary is in your father's old school trunk. Or if Remus and Sirius are still alive and well, they should be more than happy to regail you with wondrous tales of my life at Hogwarts. Time grows short, and this information must be preserved in Gringotts post haste, before anyone catches wind of it. _

_Know that somewhere in Heaven, angels are watching you, and guiding you no matter your choices. _

_Love, _

_Lily Evans Potter;_

_Your mother;_

_Chieftain of Wallach;_

_Master of the Mire'_

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**Note: **Short, I know. I'm still not feeling 100% kosher, but hopefully this will tide you guys over for a little bit, while I plan out the next chapter, and the big meet-up between Harry and Alucard.


	7. Encounters of the Fifth Kind

~^Chapter 7~^

_July 25, 1991; 3:00pm, Hellsing Headquarters, East Wing Master Bedroom_

When Walter entered Harry's room carrying a tray of tea and biscuits he was slightly shocked at the messy state of things. Books and parchments littered the bed and surrounding floor, while old, dusty looking clothes and robes were draped on top of the writing desk next to the window. The trunks obtained from Diagon Alley were open in the middle of the floor, contents being shuffled through by one Lord Harry Potter.

How one small boy could have ransacked his room to such an extent in twenty short minutes was beyond the retainer as he carefully sat the tea service down on the least cluttered surface he could find. The event was shocking considering the boy's seemingly shy state earlier. Walter would have assumed that Harry would have been too afraid to alter anything in his room, even if only by spreading his belongings about.

When the boy caught sight of him, his curious expression immediately closed off, becoming blank. Walter shrugged it off despite the mild concern nagging at the back of his mind. The boy had been abused for Lord only knew how many years, of course it was understandable that he would be wary around adults. Rather than mention it the butler simply nodded and smiled slightly, standing at attention near the door.

"It is good to see you settling in, Harry. Sir Integra has given me leave to escort you into town tomorrow morning for new clothing. Until then I am afraid you will have to make due, as we have no clothes stocked in the manor that would fit you. In the mean time, do you have any questions? I believe I have some time to show you the main points of interest so that you are not forced to stay in your rooms the rest of the day."

Silence prevailed for several moments as Harry seemed torn between keeping his silence and voicing something to Walter. The retainer did his best to look inviting. Honestly, dealing with children was not his forte. He must have managed it fine enough, as the boy finally spoke up, albeit quietly and slightly hesitant.

"May I... speak with Sir Integra?"

A sigh fought to escape the butler as he shook his head. The one request the boy made willingly, and he could not comply.

"I am afraid Sir Integra is extremely busy right now. She is a very important individual in several circles. However, perhaps if there was something you wanted to ask her, I could do my best to help in her stead."

Silence encompassed the room for several long moments as the child's expression slipped back into an unreadable mask. The look on one so young... Not even Walter could ever recall truly mastering his own emotions at that age, despite his own... hardships. He was surprised when after another minute the child spoke slowly, face carefully blank. Quite frankly that look was beginning to unnerve even the hardened, master, vampire hunter.

"Are... there any records or items left, from my ancestors?"

Walter straightened his back and coughed, a nagging feeling that he was being watched causing him to glance around alertly as he pondered his response. The feeling seemed to intensify the longer he took to answer, and a subtle glance at the boy revealed that he was staring firmly at the ground. After a moment he concluded that indeed, a certain black haired vampire must be lurking about against Integra's order. Privately, Walter was somewhat relieved. He respected Integra and her wishes, however he doubted she had taken wholly into account that the boy had a right to know of _everything _in the manor, as its rightful owner.

There was no doubt that Alucard would think of a way to circumvent his master's orders eventually, if something were not done to assuage his curiosity where Lord Potter was concerned. Walter knew for a fact, from Sir Arthus Hellsing himself, that Alucard's creation was aided wholly by the Potter family's knowledge, and even some of its magic. The boy was doubly in the right to know about him by that fact alone.

Coming to a decision he was sure to regret once Integra found out about it, Walter bowed shallowly and beckoned for the boy to follow him out of the room.

"Of course, Harry. Follow me. The Hellsing family kept to the agreement and still possesses all items that were in residence when the deed was signed over to Abraham Van Hellsing. Most of the things that could be, were moved to the basement. Largely to preserve them, but also due to hazards they may have posed to those unwielding of magic. The largest store of items that are in the manor proper are in the library."

As they moved through the halls, Walter pointed out rooms of interest as they passed. The boy remained silent through out it all, but at this point Walter had come to expect such. The presence he had felt in the boy's room followed, and a time or two Walter spied bits of shadow moving of their own accord. Once at the library, Walter excused himself, leaving Harry to wander the large room at his leisure.

The butler paused once the doors were firmly shut behind him, and turned to glare pointedly at a swath of blackness within a shadow near the doorjamb. After a moment the shadow sprang to life, growing and reforming into the grinning vampire.

"My, my, Angel, going against the Master's wishes? Tssk."

"Assuredly not. Integra has given me leave to see to the boy's needs. What he _doesn't _need is one such as you startling him and scarring him even more."

Alucard grinned and shrugged, glancing carelessly towards the closed library doors. He took a step towards them before being brought up short as Walter's glare intensified. His grin slowly slipped away, a curious look over taking his features as he eyed his friend up and down. After a moment he blinked slowly and smirked.

"Hmm... it seems... Has Walter Dorneaz, the Angel of Death, found another chick to take under his wing? I think you underestimate Lord Potter; he already knows of my existence."

Walter stood up straighter and looked affronted before the vampire's full words sunk in. Shock stole over his features before he carefully schooled them into mild curiosity.

"Oh? How could he possibly know? I doubt his... guardians," He sneered at the word. "would have informed him."

"His mother was a wise woman. She left him clues in those letters he received from the wizard bank. He wishes to know more of me... I believe even now, he searches the stacks for references to the 'No Life King'."

Walter glanced sharply at the door to the library and sighed heavily after a moment of thought. His gaze was laced with venom as he stared Alucard down.

"Integra will hear of this... Do not startle or scare the boy, Alucard. We must make careful progress to break him of old habits if he is going to be of any use to us. I am afraid that if you wish to make yourself known to him, you will have to forgo your usual theatrics."

Alucard blinked and seemed startled at the butler's sharp tone, his pupils dilating slightly as he stared for a moment. Finally he shrugged it of and smirked.

"My 'usual theatrics'? Really, Walter, you should know by now that subtlety is a fine art I learned ages ago."

"If you say so. Simply keep in mind that if you enter that library, and the boy comes out traumatized in any way, Integra will more than hear of it."

With that, Walter turned on his heel and continued on his way, changing his intended direction to lead him by Integra's office. Alucard kept his stare on the butler's back until he was out of sight before turning to stare ponderously at the door. His Master's orders were clear, and reinforced with will. However, Alucard grinned and chuckled under his breath, his Master failed to account for the fact that Blood was much stronger than simple bonds. He could smell the boy's blood from the basement the second he stepped foot in the manor. Surely, Harry Potter was of the original Wallachian line; Alucard's blood was still flowing strong.

Without hesitation, he stepped through the door, drawing himself in and dispersing into the shadows of the jam, before reforming on the other side. He paused once on the other side, cocking his head and glancing around. The child was out of sight, lost in the massive stacks within the room. A sly smirk spread over his lips as he stepped silently, stalking his prey, following the steady heartbeat and scent of blood just out of reach, beneath the flesh. Despite his recent glutinous feeding habits, he salivated at the scent of the power that the small, timid, boy possessed flowing within his veins.

Walter's warning, and his Master's will, clear in mind, he forcefully stifled the hunger. For once he was willing to forgo his usual way of dealing with situations such as this. His curiosity was far too strong to risk scaring his prey away by intimidation and predatory actions. Silently he slipped through the shadows of the room, melding with them as he moved around the boy's current location undetected. Although, he could almost swear he spied the child twitching and glancing at his corner once or twice.

Watching the boy for several moments, he could clearly pick out the tell-tale signs of abuse. The over large rags the child wore did well to conceal it all from most people- Alucard was not most people. Discolored, yellow skin around his neck and collar bone indicated that the child had been struck, or perhaps briefly strangled by something large and thick. Like-wise, the unnatural tint of yellowish skin around his wrists, and on his cheek were evidence enough, let alone the brief flashes of scent of fresh blood. Most normal people would be unable to easily pick out such things, though, Walter obviously had seen most of the damage for himself.

The child also moved carefully, obviously favoring areas of damage. Even thinking himself alone within the expansive library, the boy moved slowly and cautiously, peering into every nook and cranny he passed with wide, expectant eyes. Quite frankly, the runt didn't look like much, but by god, Alucard could certainly see the potential that Walter and his Master did. Despite being unable to sense his true power, the humans could easily read the potential asset an already half-trained soldier could be. Especially one who held such superficial control over their entire organization as it stood currently.

Slipping ahead of the boy easily, Alucard spied the perfect place to stage his entrance. The back of the library was far more impressive, and concealed, than the lounge area near the doors. Large, picture windows presented an excellent view of the back yard and training grounds. Sparse sunlight filtered in through the gray clouds that had begun forming overhead. The scattered rays of light were what Alucard was interested in, as he silently snagged a book from a nearby shelf and seated himself in the center of the brightest streak.

Busying himself with looking busy, and attempting not to squint too overly much from the damned light, Alucard could hear the boy moving in his direction. In a moment he would clear the shelves and get his first glimpse of the No Life King. But of course, the boy could not know his true nature immediately, such would scare him off. No. The trap was set, and the predator needed to wait patiently for the unfortunate prey to stumble in on its own, lest it escape entirely.

His careful estimation was indeed correct. After a mere four minutes pretending to read, a scuffling announced the arrival of his little mouse. The vampire focused quite dutifully on the book, even managing to read a paragraph on botany, as he waited patiently for the mouse to take the bait. Several long moments of silence encompassed the room, as the boy stared at him warily from the shadows of the stacks, brilliant green eyes glinting oddly as the sparse light reflected on his glasses.

Despite his attention on the book, Alucard quite easily took in the details around him as well. The boy wavered uncertainly between the shadows, standing almost unnaturally still, though his eyes darted equally wary glances at the windows as Alucard. He did not appear to be afraid at the new, unexpected presence, merely curious and uncertain of what to do. Strange, considering his reactions to Walter and Integra.

After a lengthy wait, the child finally emerged. Alucard artfully kept his attention on the book until the quiet foot steps would have been convincingly audible to human ears. Glancing up with idle interest, the vampire tilted his head, a look of curiosity and vague surprise in place as he beheld the presence for the 'first time'. At the stare, the child stuttered to a stand-still, face blank, though Alucard could easily smell his nerves.

Voice quiet and with a hint of soothing, Alucard addressed Lord Potter, "May I help you, little one? I was unaware that Sir Integra would be having a guest this evening."

The young lord blinked slowly, obviously (to Alucard) building his courage to speak to this stranger. Reclining in his seat, Alucard waited patiently, very careful to keep his demeanor relaxed and nonthreatening. It only took a moment before the child responded. Privately, the vampire was delighted at the words.

"I'm not a guest... I'll be living here... I'm sorry, but who are you?"

The last was stated a touch hesitantly, and far more quiet than the first statements. But such a question was more than enough of an invitation, in the vampire's view. Keeping up the charade, Alucard hummed thoughtfully while giving the boy a mildly assessing look.

"I had heard that Sir Integra was considering adopting someone of the old blood lines. You shall do nicely as the new lord of this estate, once you become more experienced. I'm sorry, I've been rude. My name is Alucard. And you?" Barely managing to suppress a grin, he leaned forward in his seat and sat the book aside, giving the boy his full attention.

"Harry, sir."

Genuinely waving the boy off, the vampire scoffed, "Call me Alucard. The formality is appreciated, but far from required. I have worked for Sir Integra for a long time. Perhaps I could give you a history lesson. Or, do you have any questions, Harry? Certainly I can do my best to answer them. After all, one does not find themselves within a library with no intent in mind."

The bait was set within the trap. The little mouse took it faster than Alucard was expecting. Though to the child's credit, not once did he relax his guard or show his emotions. His scent betrayed his turmoil, but curiosity slowly lit within his eyes. He was incredibly hesitant to speak again at first, but Alucard's open expression and relaxed posture seemed to put him slightly at ease.

"I'm... looking for something. It might not even be a book."

"Oh? Libraries really are wonderfully places to find a little bit of everything. Perhaps an item, or information?"

"Er, both?"

Nodding sagely, Alucard slowly rose to his feet, stooping his shoulders slightly to give the illusion of being weak or infirm. The movement caused Harry to tense up sharply and flinch. Pretending not to notice, he motioned the boy to follow him into the stacks, taking a rout which steered him from passing directly near Harry. He followed a familiar dizzying path through the stacks, ears easily detecting the heartbeat following behind, if not the sound of his silent footsteps. Lord Potter was almost as well versed in stealth as any formally trained soldier, Alucard repressed another pleased smile.

Eventually the maze of shelving once more opened up, this time into a small alcove which held a door. Opening it easily, he entered first, predicting Harry's possible discomfort at being blocked from the exit. The room within was a circular study, dimly lit by candles which never seemed to burn out, the walls lined with bookshelves. A large desk sat in the center. Books and odd items littered every surface, most of them obviously not mundane in origin.

With a flourish, Alucard perched himself on the edge of the desk, twitching his feet back and forth restlessly to keep up appearances. After a pause to allow Harry to catch his bearings, Alucard motioned around.

"Browse as you wish, simply be wary of some of the items. Some have minds of their own. I believe the more interesting to you may be on that shelf."

He pointed to a specific shelf to the side of the desk, where several books were lined up neatly. As the boy creeped over to look, a triumphant, toothy grin finally slipped past Alucard's mask, though it was quickly stifled. Clearing his throat quietly to get Harry's attention, he stood and slowly approached, a predatory swagger to his walk which the boy immediately picked up on. The flinch was expected, as Alucard's hand shot out to snag one book specifically.

Shooting the boy a clueless, innocent, smile, Alucard handed him the book and recaimed his seat on the desk. Personally Alucard was quite pleased with his own act. He hadn't had a chase like this since he had pursued the wench, Wilhelmina. True, he very much preferred the thrill of a _real _hunt, but one such as this held its own charm.

Turning his attention back to the present, he commented, "That book holds some interesting history regarding the Hellsings. The first four chapters are rather droll, I prefer the enticing details held towards the back. Page one-hundred and six, if I recall correctly."

Remaining relaxed, he watched with an expectant smirk as Harry leafed through the pages of Arthur's research journal. Slowly coiling his power, he waited until the last possible moment before dispersing, shadowy particles slowly fading to join the natural darkness created by flickering candle light.

The book nearly slipped from Harry's hands from shock and dismay, as he stared down at a sketch on the page. Alucard's mocking grin seemed to jump out of the paper.

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Note: Long time in coming, thanks for your patience. My writer's block and real life finally allowed me to finish this chapter. It had been sitting collecting dust despite my efforts to finish it. For those of you who asked: No, I have no intention of abandoning this story. If I were planning on abandoning it I would delete it from the site entirely; people who do otherwise piss me off. I make no promises on the promptness of the next chapter, but it will come eventually.


	8. Tough Call

~^Chapter 8~^

_Decades ago, during the winter of lost souls, the vampier Vlad Draculea was finally defeated. Though such knowledge does not appease nor lend solace for the crimes committed against both God and nature during the course of his reign, or the actions taken to end it... The monster has been defeated... but for how long... _

_My compatriots of that day inspire guilt in my cold heart. For such acts as we too committed, there will be no rest, no peace, no salvation. May God look upon us with pity and wrath for what we have created... May we be smote to the deepest pits of Hell for what we have done with wickedness in our hearts. _

_The vampier has been defeated... and built anew. The No Life King lives on. Harker's warnings be damned on the def ears of this old fool. A curse of my own making now burdens the Hellsing name. I only pray that my future heirs will remain ever strong and vigilant in dealing with the grave mistake of their ancestor..._

_'Dracula' he was named in life and freedom... 'Alucard' now and forever more shall he be addressed, as a weapon of Hellsing._

_I owe Harker undying gratitude, and penance, for his aid in helping to re-create a monster which I once sought to destroy. I pray too, for his heirs, fore the Nosferatu Alucard will know two Masters. Unknown to Harker, his blood will be a guiding key to ultimately controlling the fallen King. The boy knows not his own potential... Blood is the currency of the soul; Harker is by no means weak of spirit. _

_My Lord in Heaven, guide the controlling hand to righteousness. _

_My Lord in Heaven, cast me down to the purifying fires, so I may repent my sins, and carry the burden of my Heirs. _

_My Lord in Heaven, lend strength to those innocent of false creation._

_My Lord in Heaven, forgive me. _

_O0o0o0o0o0_

_July 26, 1991; 9:00am, Hellsing Headquarters, Private Dining Room._

Drumming fingers boredly against the table top, Integra's eye twitched as a grandfather clock chimed the hour. Eight o'clock in the morning... and her charge was late for breakfast. An hour and a half late. Tardiness was not something the Knight tolerated, from anyone but the Queen herself. Walter has left to retrieve the boy shortly before breakfast was to be served, they both should have arrived by now.

Jerking a case of cigars from her front pocket, she lit one to calm her increasing temper. Patience was not something the Hellsing head was known for possessing, however logic told her that she very well _must _at least remain sympathetic to Potter's needs. Doubtless this delay was simply a result of the boy's lack of knowledge of how things operated in the mansion.

Much as the situation still grated on her nerves, she could show no sign of her frustration around Potter. Walter had taken the liberty of requisitioning all files pertaining to her mysterious new 'Lord of the manor', few though there were. Mostly the files were from his schooling; grade reports, counselor notes, and several concerning letters from a school nurse, which had apparently never reached their intended destination: Child Services.

For all intents and purposes, Harry Potter did not exist outside of base records pertaining to his schooling. Despite his skill and authorization, not even a birth certificate could be sniffed out by her faithful butler. While she believed the Goblins to be innocent of deliberate deception it set her on edge, knowing next to nothing about the boy now acting as her Heir, beyond what she could see with her own eyes (and what she could grudgingly order her vampire servant to tell her).

The only option left to her was to question Potter herself. The thought of undergoing such a trial nearly made her wince. Dealing with emotionally scarred children was the last thing on earth she ever wanted to do. Curse her sense of honor and duty. On good conscience, she could not adopt the boy, and then treat him as a distant acquaintance. If the boy was going to be her Heir, she was damn well going to see after him herself.

Brooding darkly on rebellious thoughts of simply having Walter deal with it, she nearly missed the familiar 'wrong' sensation seeping into the room. Glaring sharply at the end of the table, Alucard lounged comfortably in the seat meant for Potter. He looked far too smug, and far too happy. Narrowing her eyes, Integra growled as a thought passed her mind.

"What have you been up to, vampire?"

Donning a put-upon frown, Alucard cradled a hand to his chest and looked wounded. Integra was not amused. Little could spur her night-walking servant to willingly be up at such an ungodly hour of the day. Seeing as no order had passed her lips to his ears, it left but one option.

"I believe I made it abundantly clear that you were to stay away from Potter."

The smirk was obvious in his voice, even as Integra glanced away furiously, snuffing out the remainder of her cigar in a decorative center-piece vase in front of her.

"Why, Master, I don't recall you saying that at all. I believe your orders were clear; I was not to bother him or make my presence known to him uninvited. I was simply watching him to ensure your safety, Integra."

Integra did not bother to hide a derisive snort at that. Without a doubt, Alucard _was _telling the truth, at least in part. She knew her servant well, however, and pressed on. "You will be introduced to him in due time. Until then, **GET OUT OF MY SIGHT AND DO NOT EVEN **_**THINK **_**TO GO NEAR THE BOY AGAIN!**"

Yelling the last part, her fist pounded the table to accentuate the order, other hand drawing her gun and taking aim in one swift motion, hammer cocked and finger slowly squeezing the trigger. Alucard howled in delight, leaning forward almost eagerly as he stared his Master down.

"Do you feel it, Integra? The adrenalin, the power! Do it, my Master! Pull the trigger! Show me my place! Show me! Show me!"

Eager insanity and glee caused his eyes to glow a brilliant red, pupils retracted to near slits as his attention focused solely on the Hellsing heir. Icy blue narrowed at the vampire's display, stoic indifference carefully hiding Integra's emotions once more, not willing for her servant to gain pleasure from a reaction.

Lips twisting into an almost malicious smirk, the blonde shook her head, slowly lowering the pistol and securing it back in the holster. No, that would not do at all. Carefully keeping her voice even and commanding, Integra stood from her seat, looming over the table as she glared.

"Remember who gives the orders here, _servant_. Now GO!"

If possible, he seemed almost _happy _at her response. Nearly glowing with pleasure, he laughed loudly as he dissipated, a tantalizing whisper barely reaching her ears. She shuddered slightly and fell back to her seat once she was certain of her singular occupation of the room once more. Rubbing the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to stave off a building migraine, she sighed.

What was she thinking? One meeting with Alucard and Potter would surely wind up a raving lunatic. As if the child did not have enough to deal with... Speak of the Devil. A brief knock announced a new arrival, door opening to finally reveal a disgruntled looking Walter, and the stoic boy. Looking them over, she blinked at noting Potter's attire.

Walter bowed shortly, fussing with a serving cart and setting the table with practiced ease, ushering Potter to Alucard's previous seat. Integra almost protested that seating arrangement now, but thought better of it, choosing instead to lift an inquiring eyebrow at the retainer. Walter, to his credit, simply shrugged non-commitally.

"There was a bit of an accident this morning that required the trip for new clothing be given higher priority. I apologize for not informing you directly. Did Mr. Wenton not deliver my message?"

"No. He did not."

Walter scowled, back straightening even more at the irritating news. He said nothing, simply giving a tight, apologetic bow, which the Hellsing immediately waved off.

"Simply have Mr. Wenton re-assigned to barracks duty for the time being. Normally he is not disobedient. Find out why he failed this task, and reprimand him accordingly."

"As you wish, Sir."

Uncomfortable silence encompassed the room as Walter strode out, leaving Hellsing and Potter to stare at each other, neither quite having a clue how to act around the other. Harry for his part avoided Integra's gaze, only shooting darting glances at her out of the corner of his eye, head bowed a touch submissively. The migraine hit Integra full force as she realized that she would have to be the one to broach the awkward atmosphere.

Taking a small sip from a glass of water Walter had provided with the meal, she bit back a sigh. Integra Hellsing could deal with deranged vampires, Catholic priests, and the Queen herself, but a small boy... left her inexplicably nervous. Finally tiring of her own indecision, she addressed the child. While her tone was strict and rather non-emotional, she put some effort into not sounding quite as cold as normal.

"I apologize for not meeting you properly yesterday, Harry. News of your arrival came on rather short notice; arrangements needed to be seen to, to ensure your safety around the manor guard. Walter has told me that you are settling in well in such a short span of time. This is good. As I am certain you know of this organization's true purpose, you must realize that your current condition makes you a liability. I have certain ground rules, that I wished to inform you of directly."

She paused to gauge the child's reaction, but simply received a blank stare for her trouble. Gritting her teeth, she mentally recalled the rather soothing sensation of shooting Alucard to ease her irritation at the boy's lack of reaction.

"While you may go where you please within the manor, as per our agreement, I must ask that you not venture in the sub-basement or back lawn without Walter or myself present. The basement is a veritable labyrinth, containing dangerous items of both magical and normal nature; you could easily get yourself lost or killed on your own. Like-wise the back lawn is a staging ground for my troops. They use live ammunition and explosives in their drills. Simply ask myself or Walter if you wish to venture into either location."

Taking another sip of water, Integra internally winced at her next order of business. Staying unemotional was easier when addressing an adult in such a manner. She carefully lessened the stern ring in her tone.

"You will be expected to eat three meals a day. If you are unable to finish your plate, you will be provided the left-overs later, in-between normal meals. You are far too thin, and obviously undernourished. Once you are of a normal weight for one your age, Walter will be introducing you to basic exorcises to build your muscles to what they also should be..."

Harry finally reacted, twitching a bit and looking confused. Observing him carefully, Integra could read the indecision in his posture. Her migraine spiked. Something needed to be done to boost the boy's confidence. This lack of vocalizing his thoughts was troubling. Leaning forward, she leaned her elbows on the table and cradled her chin against her ponderously intertwined fingers. An idea slowly began forming, and for a moment she thought herself quite mad. Such a thing was risky and dangerous... but...

"There is also someone that I would like to introduce you to, after you finish your breakfast."

The boy blinked slowly at his plate, as if just now recalling that it sat untouched in front of him. Truthfully Integra had as well for a moment. She was no longer hungry, but striving to lead by example, she grudgingly picked up her utensils and pulled her plate closer. She watched him as they ate, noting every little hesitance in his frame as he lacklusterly nibbled some toast and egg.

Frowning even more, she wanted to scream in frustration. Normal children would be famished and eager to eat under normal circumstances. Likely, the boy was so hungry that his body no longer registered the feeling. She needed to have her personal physician look him over once he was more comfortable with the situation; possibly before, if Harry did not begin eating normally within the coming week.

As she calmly waited for him to clear at least half his plate, she mentally went over her foolhardy plan. It had to happen sooner than later, with the vampire's increasing disregard for her orders regarding the child. Walter had informed her of yesterday's possible encounter, and his thoughts on the matter. She disapproved of his methods, but privately gave the assassin props for wisdom. Attempting to keep Alucard from interacting with Harry would be rather like trying to keep the sun from setting. Best to get it over with immediately, if Harry did in fact, at least know of the vampire's possible existence.

Air tight orders would have to be given, to ensure Harry's continued safety around Alucard, both physically and mentally. Integra had no clue as to her servant's thoughts or reactions to the boy, other than the obvious wanton curiosity over a potential new toy. It worried her but also gave her an odd sense of hope.

Despite her mixed feelings of loathing over the vampire, she privately admitted that he had a way about him which seemed to bring out the best and worst in people, depending on his moods and intentions. After her father's death, there had been little time for Integra to grieve beyond her brief break-down in Alucard's holding cell, and after her uncle's betrayal, she had been nearly sociopathic. She had gone weeks without feeling a shred of human emotion, going about her days like a machine as she tended to her family's crumbling foundations.

The vampire had eventually sought out his new Master, pestering her at all hours; goading her with pointed barbs and sharp remarks, taunting her over her seeming lack of strength and humanity. Even stooping so low as to occasionally comment on her age and appearance. Eventually something inside her had snapped, breaking the fog which seemed to have encompassed her mind. Even after so long, she could still recall his smug grin as she had drawn her sidearm on him for the first time ever, his laughter overshadowing the sound of the gun fire and her own enraged, grief-filled, shouts.

While his methods were suspect, and his intentions less than pure, perhaps Alucard could aid in luring the boy out of his shell. Absently extracting another cigar, Integra chewed the end, lost in thought as to how to prevent the vampire from damaging the boy more. Doubtless any order she gave him, no matter how tightly worded, could be gotten around. Perhaps simplicity was all that was needed. Over thinking a situation tended to get nothing done. Nodding slightly to herself, she turned her attention back to Harry.

He had managed to eat almost all his plate during her lapse in attention. Though he looked a bit ill now, she felt an odd sense of pride, foreign to her, given the subject, but there none the less. Lighting her cigar, she rose to her feet, pretending to ignore his twitch at her unexpected movement. She beckoned him to follow, expecting him to comply, if only out of fear of possible consequence. He followed slowly behind her as she led him out of the dining room and to her personal office.

Sitting behind her desk, she reclined a bit as she mulled over how to go about introductions. Startling the boy too badly right off would have the opposite effect of what she wished. But often the most direct approach was best with these types of things.

Harry had remained standing, remaining a careful distance from the desk. He did not fidget, but from his stance, it was clear that he was uncomfortable. It bothered her more than it should have. Glancing over him once more, she had to approve of Walter's choice of clothing. Clean and well fitting, while still being large enough to accommodate a growing child; they were a bit too casual for Integra's liking, but she understood that pressing luxury on a child like Harry would likely not go over well. For now, jeans and t-shirts would do.

Tapping the ashes of her cigar into the ashtray on the edge of her desk, she spoke evenly, as if simply commenting on the weather.

"You are aware of the existence of vampires. How would you like to meet one?"

Some emotion finally showed on Harry's face, lips twitching into a slight frown. By the mild look of uncertainty, Integra inferred that either Harry had indeed already met Alucard, or he was skeptical. In any case... She spoke aloud for Harry's benefit. Voice stern, she carefully kept her gaze away from Harry, attempting to disassociate him from the harsh command.

"Alucard, come here, now!"

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**Note: **Has Integra lost her marbles? Will Alucard scar Harry for life? Will Harry ever smile again? Will I finally be able to progress this story? Damn we're gonna find out, stay tuned. As always, I'm not promising when the next chapter will come out, but hopefully it will be within the month.

And before anyone reviews, commenting on the little 'prayer' tidbit at the beginning and that "But Hellsing would have been Protestant! That's not 'this' that would be in line with 'such and such other sect/religion/whatever'" Yeah, no. I don't care about organized religion IRL; all I care about are clearly noted Canon religious ties, and creative license.


	9. Merry Meetings Or something

~*Chapter 9~*

"_Alucard, come here, now!"_

Despite all attempts to remain impassive, Harry was unable to hide his look of shock and slight fear at witnessing the vampire walk out of a solid wall. A strange sensation passed over him, nagging the back of his mind with familiarity, but he pushed it aside in light of having a wide sharp-toothed grin directed at him. Blinking slowly and composing himself, he frowned deeply at Alucard.

Stomach roiling with nerves, despite his dire wish to run in the opposite direction, he remained firm. Having read at least some of the journal the vampire had given him the previous night, and observing the interaction between Integra and said vampire, Harry was certain he was in no danger. At least, no danger that Integra would not first have to instigate. The thought sent an even stronger jolt of nerves through him, like ice water being poured down his back.

Had he committed some violation by inquiring after the No Life King? Would Integra order Alucard to attack? Had the goblin contract covered enslaved vampires in the clause? Several questions and worries flooded through him in the span of a millisecond. Integra and Alucard seemed to be watching him carefully; the Hellsing with a blank expression, and the vampire... amusement. The realization of the vampire's enjoyment of his fear sent an unexpected coil of anger shooting in his chest.

Humans were far scarier and more cruel than any vampire. The humans in his life previous had walked over him like a doormat, ignored him, beat him down even long after he had ceased caring for the pain. He had fought his way tooth and nail to escape that, even attempting to poison those who would keep him tethered away like a slave and forgotten play thing. Humans were far scarier than vampires, and this one would certainly not inspire such things in Harry.

The conscious decision reflected in his minute change of stance. While many would not note the change, Hellsing and servant did. The boy's spine straightened, fists slowly unclenching at his sides. While still tense, the look of fear clearly diminished from his gaze as he speared Alucard with a blank, unamused, stare. This seemed to surprise Alucard, to Integra's pleasure, as the vampire's grin faded to a curious pout.

Perhaps her scheme was not unfounded after all. Watching the silent play between her servant and new heir, Integra leaned back in her seat, kicking her feet up onto the desk in a relaxed posture. While such an action would never be repeated in front of her soldiers or anyone of official capacity, this situation was simply too interesting to observe while uncomfortable herself. Meeting expectation, Alucard was the first to break the silence.

"Find anything interesting to read, little one?"

The boy twitched, and Integra's suspicions were confirmed. So they had met before. She was curious as to how the vampire had managed without sending the boy into a nervous panic. Alucard's gaze flitted in her direction minutely, and a slight smirk showed off one of his fangs. No doubt she could question him later, but for now she continued to watch in silence.

The little mouse still smelled of nerves, pheromones quite in upheaval as he battled with himself over how to react or if he should at all. Alucard marveled privately at that scent. Such a small and miniscule, seemingly insignificant, child contained such power. Even unconscious as it was, he could prove quite destructive if he were to lose his temper.

He would need to cajole the boy a bit to experience for himself if all worked out. He suspected and approved of his master's plan. A child such as this would never be aided by being coddled, though a delicate touch was indeed in order. While not ideal, it would certainly prove to be an amusing, and perhaps even rewarding, challenge.

Recalling his various insults and actions taken against Integra when she was younger and not yet over the death of her father and uncle, he knew that method would not work. The boy was far too used to being abused. It would simply reinforce the conditioning, and torturing an already injured puppy held little appeal. Thinking deeply for a long moment, he finally came to a decision.

Slowly, Alucard reached up to remove his sunglasses, pocketing them and allowing the child to see his true eye color. While appearing unmoved by the action, curiously the vampire could detect that the simple gesture seemed to cause Harry to relax a small amount. Eye contact was important to the little mouse then? Perhaps not a rodent after all, as usually submissive prey found eye to eye contact distasteful.

The fedora was removed next, allowing an unshaded view of his face. Calculating his master's reaction to his next move, Alucard repressed a grin, keeping his face perfectly straight. Without warning, he brought the hand still holding his hat down in an obvious and low bow, drawing in and pressing the red cap to cover his heart and dropping to one knee in front of the now startled looking boy. The little one looked as if he were fighting a flight instinct as he stared at the vampire with slightly wide eyes.

A stifled gasp from Integra's direction informed Alucard that he had achieved his desired affect all around. The action was nearly exact to the one repeated years ago, in that small, dank cell in the sub-basement. Raising his head to stare into startling green eyes, he was pleased at the play of emotions he witnessed within. Unease, distrust, and a hint of fear were most prominent and easily picked out; however beneath the obvious... This boy was truly a fighter. Hope and determination not to give into the fear nearly consuming him shined through the carefully blank stare.

Assuredly, he would need to prove himself worthy of more than mere consideration as an heir to Hellsing. Alucard could tell though that such would be perfectly easy to deduce through breaking old habits. Which would prove interesting of itself. At last the vampire ceased his scrutinize, instead cocking his head to the side, though maintaining eye contact. His words were carefully quiet as he proclaimed,

"You will indeed be a fine heir to Hellsing one day, little master."

Disbelief joined the mass of emotions clearly visible to the master vampire's eyes. The child would obviously not hold much opinion of self worth. Though quite obviously the capacity was indeed there, as mere survival instinct alone could not spur a human to go to such lengths to escape their own 'family'. The puzzle before him would provide more than enough amusement to keep him interested in between assignments.

* * *

_July 26, 1991; 9:00am, Hog's Head Bar, Hogsmeade._

Strange things were not unusual to encounter in the small wizarding town of Hogsmead. In fact, the unusual was quite usual, more so when school was in session, but the summer provided its own interesting situations. The small bar tucked away on a little traversed, but well known, lane was sleepy and almost depressingly devoid of patrons. Aberforth found it a bit of a relief though.

When all was quiet, it meant he could kick back and simply relax, without having to cater to the sleaze and filth who found such a place comforting, or appealing to conduct shady deals. Days like this were rare, as though the pub was small and out of the way, those very facts drew people in. Whether they be lone wolves or dark wizards. Or annoying older brothers. The grizzled proprietor had not seen hide nor twinkling head of a certain school master since the end of the previous school year. Quite frankly it set him on edge.

Not to be mistaken, Aberforth loved his sibling, but old men were prone to quarrels, no different than in younger years. Their latest had been regarding a desire to possess a very potent and potentially dangerous magical artifact. A very interesting if plain looking mirror, which the barkeep had caught wind of when eavesdropping on conversations the previous year. While Aberforth agreed that it should not be in the hands of dark wizards, Albus had insisted the thing be kept up at the school.

Being a very nosy person by nature, the older Dumbledore was well aware of a certain savior's attendance at the school the coming September. He was also suspicious of his brother's plotting. No matter the decade or situation, Albus was never happy if he could not scheme and plan an event to every nuance of possible occurrence. He even color and size coded his own sock drawer for Merlin's sake! Unable to truly blame him, in all honesty, Aberforth non the less was uneasy. After the last war, the elder had never been quite the same, though he could not place his finger on it.

Certainly losing Grindlewald to dark magics had been a devastating blow, even then his brother had coped well. Perhaps Tom Riddle's fallacy had been the last straw to some part of Albus' mind. Since the end of the last war, his brother had been quiet, though not entirely withdrawn. He still maintained his flair for dramatic clothing and his all-knowing front. In private however... No matter their differences, Aberforth had his suspicions.

Neither powerful wizard held illusions about Tom's deceased status. Aberforth himself had been there to witness the prophecy proclaimed by the twit, Trelawny. While she was unreliable while coherent, he knew a true seer when he saw one go into fits in his bar. Having heard of Harry Potter's birth from James Potter himself, Aberforth could put two and two together. He only hoped Albus would not let a simple prophecy cloud his judgment where the young Potter was concerned. Such things had a way of fulfilling themselves, without push and shove by old headmasters.

As if summoned by the thought, the door to the establishment opened, allowing what looked like a christmas tree to walk in. If not for the twinkling blue eyes and white beard, Aberforth would have sworn someone had been fiddling with animation spells. Hideous green and gold robes sparkled with red lights, accompanied by like-wise colored hat and boots. Marveling at his brother in mild horror, the thought crossed his mind to prepare a blinding spell for himself.

"A bit early for winter solstice, brother."

Albus paused and glanced down at himself with a chuckle, shaking his head in merriment. Aberforth winced, as he caught sight of the violent purple cloak accompanying the spectacle. He turned and poured himself a tall shot of Dragon Brine Whiskey, knowing a visit from the headmaster could likely only mean trouble. He had no wish to be sober while staring at that outfit. The twinkle in Albus' eyes intensified as he took a seat at the bar, knowing look in place.

"Ah, but I have discovered a wonderful tradition! It seems that American muggles celebrate something known as 'Christmas in July'! It's quite an exciting concept."

Downing the shot, Aberforth raised a faded eyebrow. "How... interesting."

That prompted a deep laugh from Albus, his gaze drifting to the smoke pouring from the barkeep's mouth after the drink. He looked interested despite himself, and Aberforth was reminded rather abruptly that Albus had never been much of a drinker. Reaching beneath the counter, he offered his brother a butterbeer, which was accepted with a cheery smile.

"Oh, no need to be like that, muggles are interesting people! And, is that the infamous Dragon Brine I've heard much about? Hadn't the ministry illegalized it after the fiftieth case of stomach burns?"

Ignoring the chiding tone, Aberforth shrugged and poured another. Ministry law had never much concerned him where alcohol was concerned. It simply took a few ruptured organs to get the body used to the acidic liquid, after which, it was a quite enjoyable experience. After the second shot went down, he grew impatient with the silence.

"What do you want, Albus?"

"How are Kendy and Arnold?"

Aberforth scoffed and turned to glare at his brother. The question may have seemed idle and polite to outsiders, but he knew his brother better than that. Even the honestly confused stare couldn't fool him.

"They're fine. Now what do you want?"

Gritting his teeth and barely refraining from reaching for his wand, he wanted to strangle Albus. Asking after his goats after their last argument about them meant his brother wanted something. His brother knew it too, as the friendly look slowly slipped away to one of polite interest, as if addressing an acquaintance rather than a family member.

"Have you heard any interesting news of late?"

"Mrs. Rendlewood is having an affair with the Widow Barice. And Hagrid is attempting to buy cockatrices off the black market again."

Aberforth leaned idly against the counter, brushing a piece of imaginary lint from his sleeve. He knew what bit of information his brother was asking for specifically, but it was going to cost him this time. Predictably, Albus frowned. Waiting patiently for the response, he hadn't long. Albus never was the patient sort.

"You know what I mean."

Scoffing under his breath, he withdrew a piece of parchment from his robes pocket and fiddled with it. It contained scrawling from a Dict-a-quill he kept positioned under the bar, recording various conversations happening while he was playing the oblivious barkeep. Albus knew about the quill, but he never seemed to care past what the information could do for him. Shaking his head in silent wonder at his brother's fallacies, Aberforth set the parchment on the counter, though did not withdraw his hand from it.

"I want your word that the Ministry will continue to keep their noses out of my business."

Albus waved a hand dismissively, making Aberforth's hackles raise. He kept the parchment firmly in hand as his brother reached for it, silently demanding a verbal response to the statement before Albus got what he wanted. The bit of parchment meant more to his brother than Aberforth did, and the same in reverse could be said regarding Aberforth himself. After their sister, and the mess with Grindlewald, there was no love lost between them.

"Alright. I promise to continue hedging quarries from the Ministry for you. They shan't interfere with you or your goats."

Nodding tightly, he released the parchment and pushed away from the counter to pace to the opposite end. He kept his back to Albus as the sound of parchment unfolding reached his ears. His brother would not be happy with the information, and that amused him. Glancing side-ways at the mirror behind the bar, he busied himself with cleaning, even as he watched the elder peruse the words. He knew exactly what particular section his brother was on, as the man's face paled beneath his beard, and he stood abruptly, exiting the pub with nary a farewell.

Sometimes, Aberforth loved his job.

* * *

_July 26, 1991; 4:00pm, Spinner's End, Dining Room._

Never content to return to Hogwarts before the term had officially begun, Severus Snape found himself sorely displeased to discover a brightly clad Headmaster sitting at his kitchen table upon returning from his potions in the basement. Headmasters did not generally nor lightly invade their professors homes without leave or good reason. That is, most headmasters. Dumbledore seemed to be the exception to everything, and the dark professor was sorely tempted to activate the wards to forcibly eject said twinkling person from his house.

Such would be in bad taste, however, and Severus knew it the moment he caught sight of Dumbledore's expression. The old man seemed genuinely distressed over something, and glancing at the calendar on the wall, he could easily guess what. Of course it would be Potter. Such was confirmed when the Headmaster offered him a bit of parchment without even a greeting. Face drawing into a sour frown at the rudeness, he accepted the paper as if it were liable to bite his hand off.

The top half of the parchment was full of inane chatter, and was promptly skipped over. He realized belatedly that this was a script from a dict-a-quill and scoffed, though such thoughts were derailed as his gaze caught upon two particular names...

"_Lucius Malfoy: Whisper What is Amelia _thinking_!"_

"_Regalius Yaxly: Whisper You know as well as I do. Though this is highly irregular even for her muggle-loving ways."_

"_Malfoy: Whisper But to-! Allowing _muggles _to interfere in a wizard-child's rearing... Especially _those _muggles... It's simply unacceptable."_

"_Yaxly: Whisper You almost sound concerned for Potter, Malfoy." _

"_Malfoy: Whisper Watch your tongue! I am merely concerned that his being with _those _muggles will deter our future endeavors." _

"_Yaxly: Whisper What endeavors? The master is dead." _

"_Malfoy: Whisper The master may be dead, but our efforts have not faded. Unless you were not as loyal to Him as you lead everyone to believe. Hellsing will severely hinder our efforts if we wish to crush the muggle-lovers' hopes."_

"_Yaxly: Scoff, Whisper They are mere muggles, even despite their little pet. Have you not been working to pass a bill to outlaw the Hellsing Organization? Work harder, rather than crying to myself about your tattered plans. It's bad enough I have to answer to Fudge's rantings about the same."_

Mind working frantically to sort out the meaning, Several offered the paper back to the old man. His lips thinned into a tense line as he observed the headmaster. While the tidbit of news was interesting, he was wary as to how Dumbledore associated it with him enough to show and tell. He was nearly startled when the headmaster finally spoke. He sounded all of his one hundred years, and for once, Severus felt a small nagging of guilt, until he registered the words.

"Severus... I regret to ask this of you, as you have more than earned a rest where the Potters are concerned... But I require someone to go and speak with the head of the Hellsing Organization... To discover what, in truth, is going on with young Harry. The goblins understandably refuse to comment on it, even to myself, and the Hellsings don't hold the Dumbledore family in a good enough regard to speak with me."

Preparing to argue quite vehemently, Severus was halted from speaking as Albus at last looked him in the eye. He barely repressed a visible shudder at the commanding expression on the normally cheerful man's face. He was not being asked to do this, he was being ordered to. Clearly unhappy, though Dumbledore ignored it, he bowed stiffly.

"Of course... Headmaster. I will contact Sir Hellsing to arrange a meeting immediately."

"Oh, no need." Albus shook his head and fished around in his robes, withdrawing a slip of parchment, offering it to Severus. "The meeting has already been arranged, and a driver will pick you up in one hour sharp to drive you to the manor for dinner. Dress to impress, Severus. We must remove Harry from their care with the utmost respect. We wouldn't wish for the Ministry to become involved in this."

Grinding his teeth to prevent a growl from escaping, Severus snatched the paper from Dumbledore's grasp, past being polite at that information. Gazing at it, his fingers twitched, dearly wishing to curse the headmaster into oblivion. Ignoring the muted sound of disapparation, he glared daggers at the list of attire he was to wear to the meeting.

.

.

.

* * *

**Note**: Happy Holidays. Hope you enjoy this chapter. I enjoyed writing the interactions once I finally got around to working on it.


	10. Interference

_July 26, 1991; 11:00am, Hellsing Headquarters, Integra's Office._

The all encompassing silence was broken at last, by Walter's entrance. He glanced around, obviously taking note of the situation, before approaching Integra with a short bow. If the Hellsing leader did not know her butler any better, she could have sworn she detected a hint of smugness about him as he offered her a folded parchment. Unfolding it, she shot a glance at the vampire and Harry, ensuring that quarter were behaving themselves, before turning her attention to the missive.

A sneer reached her lips as she glanced over the over-extravagant purple ink. She was tempted to burn the thing without reading it as soon as she spied the author, however sense kicked in before her temper could get the better of her. The Headmaster of Hogwarts school was assuredly not her most favorite person to deal with. He hid his motivations behind grandfatherly airs and sweets. A clever front for a coward. Thankfully she had not a reason to deal with him previous... before Harry's adoption, however.

Suspecting already what the letter contained, she non the less forced her gaze to the head.

_'__Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore _

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Supreme Mugwump_

_Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot_

_ To: Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing_

_ Leader of the Hellsing Organization_

_ Knight of the Order of Twelve_

_ Greetings and salutations, _

_ It is my greatest pleasure to discover that young Harry Potter's disappearance from his relatives home in Little Whinging is indeed, no cause for alarm! While the method is highly_

_ irregular, I must extend my greatest appreciation to you and your organization for rescuing _

_ poor Harry from his bout of wandering. _

_ After speaking with his relations, it has become clear to me that young Harry is suffering_

_ from a severe lack of familiar structure in his life. This causes him to act out rashly, _

_ often in the form of self-harm and running away from home. I blame myself heavily _

_ for this, as I had at one time believed the home of his last remaining family to be the best place_

_ to rear him as a young wizard. I severely neglected thought upon the possibility that his _

_ Aunt and Uncle might be overburdened with another child to care for on top of their_

_ son and careers. _

_ Due to my position on the Wizengamot, I am well aware of your organization and duties there- in. It is believed by myself and others of the committee that the danger inherent in your line of work would be far too much for a young boy to handle. To say nothing of your vampire friend's appetites. Because of this, I feel the best option would be to remove Harry to my custody. The _

_ matter need never reach the attention of the Ministry, save by way of official documentation. Certainly there is no need to over stress Harry through more forceful means._

_ I have taken the liberty of sending a trusted representative to your residence to oversee the proceedings. With your permission, of course, he will arrive at precisely six o'clock. I fear an emergency staff meeting at the school has prevented my personal attendance. _

_ Please enclose your prompt reply, so that more solid arrangements can be made. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Albus Dumbledore' _

Crumbling the parchment in her clenched fist, she ground her teeth sharply to prevent a more violent reaction. How **dare **he? The sheer nerve of the man was far worse than that of the goblins! Glancing up at Walter, he bowed shortly and came to attention, awaiting her orders regarding the letter. He had no doubt read it to ensure its proper importance. Drawing in a deep breath, she carefully composed herself, lest the boy catch on to her mood and react.

Keeping her voice low, she calmly stated, "Compose an acceptance to allow this representative to dine with us."

Walter bowed and turned on his heel to follow instructions. Watching him go, Integra considered her options. The headmaster very much knew of the abuse, that much was clear. Why then, would he persist in lying about it. The answer came to her as her gaze drifted to Alucard and Harry.

The vampire was still kneeling before the boy. They appeared to be conversing in tones too low for her to make out. The boy was solemn and closed off as ever, not giving any hints to the topic. Under her watch, Alucard conjured a ball of shadow, offering it to Harry. After a moment of hesitation, he accepted the ball, staring at it with a strange expression.

Dumbledore was thought of to be the epitome of light. Nearly worshiped by some wizards for his pristine moral image, and benign countenance. What then, would people say, if they knew that the 'leader of the light' had allowed their savior to be physically, emotionally, and verbally abused? Either Dumbledore believed whatever asinine tale Harry's relatives had spun him... or he did not wish for there to be a paper trail.

The latter would perfectly fit with what she knew of him as a political figure. He preferred a pristine image, free from fault, in public; while he conducted his shady dealings behind closed doors. Alucard glanced at her, a smirk tugging his lips, as if sensing her thoughts. The look was mirrored by her own, as she carefully locked the letter away in one of the desk drawers. She would be incredibly interested to meet this 'representative'.

* * *

_July 26, 1991; 5:00pm, Hellsing Headquarters, East Wing Master Bedroom _

After meeting Alucard for the second time, Harry had been dismissed to his bedroom. Albeit, Sir Integra had pointedly informed him that they would have a guest for dinner. He was understanding of the logic. She would not wish for him to be seen or heard by the guest, in case he embarrassed her, or offended the guest, with his presence. He did not wish to be a bother to her, after all the kindness she and Walter had shown him.

They had all treated him kindly, and not spoken a word of anger or disappointment at him. Not even the vampire! That conversation was still fresh on him mind, as he sat at the desk in his room. The ball of shadow was still maintaining its form, sitting unassumingly on one corner. Something nagged him to tap into his powers, to investigate it, however he forced the urge down. He had no wish to reveal himself to be a freak. Even though the vampire could manipulate shadows like him, Harry did not have the excuse of not being human.

"_You have much potential, little Master. However you have much still to overcome. You are not afraid of the dark, are you?" _

_Harry nodded his head stoically, remaining silent. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, as a familiar sensation brushed over his skin. Alucard's form seemed to blur for a moment before solidifying. An intimidating (under normal circumstances) grin was directed at him. _

"_Interesting..." In a more serious tone, "You should not fear the dark... You no doubt know from experience, that it is never the dark, but that which dwells in it, that should be feared." _

_Unable to hide mild curiosity at that, Harry finally spoke, though unsure of himself. "Don't you prefer the dark?" Alucard chuckled wickedly. The wizard found it odd that of everyone he had met, the vampire was the one he felt most comfortable with, despite his efforts at intimidation. After the initial fright had worn off, he found he rather preferred the vampire; he looked human, but he certainly was not. He wondered if he shouldn't assure Alucard that he would in fact be quite frightening to most children. _

"_Yesss. However I am _of _the darkness. Not a mere insect fluttering about blindly in search of the next meal or cheap thrill." _

_Considering a moment, Harry nodded. "So... I shouldn't be afraid of you?" _

_The question prompted a nasty chuckle from the vampire, but Harry felt no urge to cower in fear. Alucard seemed to notice as well, as a strange look passed over his features before disappearing behind a cheshire grin. The sensation passed through Harry once more, as before his eyes the vampire conjured shadows into a sphere. He hesitated greatly, but eventually accepted the offered 'object'. _

"_My master ensures that you have no reason to fear me... unless you chose to." _

_A smirk wormed its way across Alucard's lips, as he darted a glance at Sir Integra. _

The conversation now felt rather surreal, as did his reactions to it. Logically Harry knew that he should be quite wary of anyone openly professing to be a vampire; even more-so at the knowledge that his guardian was the only thing keeping him from becoming a light snack. He simply could not bring himself to care beyond mere thought. Reaching out to prod the orb with a trembling finger, he nearly jumped from his skin as he suddenly felt a presence at his back.

"Skittish little mouse. Walter sent me to get you ready for dinner."

Alucard's wide grin gave the statement implied new meaning, causing some nerves to leap within Harry. For the most part he merely stared blankly for a moment, not quite comprehending the implication. Why would they want him ready for a dinner he would not be attending? Easily picking out the underlying confusion, Alucard frowned.

"Surely you did not think my Master so callous as to refuse you food?"

Harry hurriedly shook his head. "No! I mean... it was part of the contract... I just, didn't think she would want me at the table."

Curiously, Alucard found himself growing angry at the statement. It was clear from the boy's tone that the thought of eating from a table was foreign. While the vampire could care less, he did feel Integra's orders bearing down upon him. Quite frankly he also found he liked the human mouse. The boy was far less complicated to deal with than most others, and it was an interesting change of pace. There was also their curious conversation earlier. He found himself amused with the small human.

Unconcerned with showing his opinion, he took note as Harry flinched at seeing the irritation. He was careful to at least keep his tone normal, if containing darker hints. "You do not appear to be a dog, but a mouse. Mice eat from tables even when uninvited. A mouse you are, so from the table you shall dine."

Being called a rodent caused a brief flash of some emotion, which Alucard found interesting. The boy-wizard certainly had the potential for bold action, if he were but given an opportunity. Certainly he would comply with Integra's plans – he was forced to – but once the little mouse grew more bold... _Then _he could really have some fun!

Tiring of playing psychologist, Alucard began to fade into the floor, grinning at the surprised Harry. For the most part, the wizard was merely dizzy from the strange encounter. The vampire almost sounded like he cared. But that was impossible, he shrugged off. No one cared for freakish Harry. Making his way over to the wardrobe, he decided it best to comply with Integra's order. Hopefully dinner would be over fast, so he could read more of his father's journal before bed.

* * *

_July 26, 1991; 6:00pm, Hellsing Headquarters, Foyer_

Tugging at his tie in annoyance, Severus found himself grossly out of his element. The manor was more lavish than even the Malfoys could boast, with hired help to reinforce the attempt at intimidation. His skilled gaze had picked out that even the butler was prepared for a fight. Not that he could blame them, with what they did for a living. It did not put him any more at ease with the mission Dumbledore had given him.

Obviously Potter would be substantially safer and better cared for here than anywhere. But of course, he knew the old man's motives. He only found himself curious at what had become of the child to land him in such a location. The headmaster had been so certain that his plan was foolproof. Then again, he had not taken into account the fact that the plan involved a Potter.

Once more adjusting the blasted noose about his neck, he nearly missed it when the retainer returned to direct him to the dining room. Some heat spread over his face at being caught in obvious discomfort, but he quickly composed himself, following the man down a short hallway and into a small dining area. He had nearly been expecting a ball room of sorts. Obviously the Hellsing family was secure in their authority. He knew from experience with purebloods that they often used illusions of space to throw off guests.

A woman stood at the head of the six person table, cold blue eyes meeting his dead on and holding him in a critical stare. The platinum blonde hair was nearly enough to cause him to suspect the Malfoys, except for her facial features bearing no resemblance. The chair to her left was already occupied, a mop of unruly black hair visible over the back rest. They were certainly confident, or considering Albus' offers, if they allowed the boy in his presence.

Standing behind the chair to the woman's right was a sight which nearly made Severus wish to laugh. Such explained their overconfidence in the least. He held no chance of success here, and they knew it. Goblins were creatures to never underestimate, and getting caught in a double-cross with them often meant painful and swift death. Orcs were worse by twenty-fold. Severus had never had reason to deal with them before, having no real wealth or estate to require an overseer. The notion made him respect Sir Hellsing, if loathing her, for her insight on how to effectively silence Dumbledore's attempts.

The other two chairs where guarded by muggles in uniform. Highly decorated military suits, which Severus vaguely recalled from his muggle learning as denoting a General or Lieutenant. The last seat at the bottom of the table was obviously his, as there was no one else in sight to claim it. The butler left him standing alone near the door, and out of his element. Drawing up every ounce of experience as a spy among purebloods, he waited with a feigned air of patience for the family head to indicate him welcome to sit or approach.

The posturing set his temper on edge, but he forced it down. He held no patience for such posh environments or attitudes, however orders were orders. Dumbledore would more than know if he deliberately sabotaged the old coot's plans through hostility. Best that he ride this out 'in character' and let them do the sabotaging themselves. Straightening his back almost instinctively, he inclined his head in greeting as Sir Hellsing at last approached him.

The family head extended her hand, nearly crushing Severus' when he accepted the shake. He had not been expecting such a strong grip from a muggle woman of obvious noble birth. Hiding any reaction to it, he introduced himself neutrally, though loud enough for those at the table to be able to hear. He suspected introductions with them, given their obvious importance, however in pureblood society it was considered impolite to hide ones name from anyone in a personal room such as this.

"Sir Hellsing, I am Professor Severus Snape. I am employed under Headmaster Dumbledore at Hogwarts."

"I am Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing."

She seemed just as neutral with her greeting. It gave Severus some hope that his presence was not being resented out of principle. Certainly if he were forced to dine with them, open hostilities caused by Dumbledore would make the experience all the more unpleasant. The Hellsing head directed him to his seat before returning to stand behind her own.

"Professor Snape, this is Harry Potter-Hellsing, heir to Hellsing, and my adopted son."

Severus would have fallen over if he had less self control. As it stood, his eyes merely grew a bit wide upon hearing such a proclamation, as his eyes sought out the child for himself. A wary green gaze pierced his own, freezing his heart for a fraction of a second. His eyes were so much like Lily's... Taking in the rest of the boy's appearance, he bit back a growl. Anyone with eyes and a brain could see the child was suffering from malnutrition, like-wise yellow skin could be picked out at the edges of his shirt. Only iron will kept him from aparating out to go throttle Dumbledore. Had he _not _warned the fool of an old man about _those _muggles? Had not Minerva as well?

The presence of the child and his condition strengthened his resolve. Provided the Hellsings were looking after him as any child should be, he would happily neglect argument for the child's relocation. Children were sniveling rats in his opinion, however, none deserved such treatment at the hands of a blood relation... He knew both first hand, and from Lily.

Nearly missing Sir Hellsing's introduction of the orc, he forcefully pulled himself away from the jade stare to nod politely.

"Head Goblin Bloodclaw, Harry's caseworker. And Lieutenants Ferguson and O'Mally, my trusted advisers."

Signaling everyone to sit, by claiming her seat, stilted silence encompassed the room. Curiously enough, it was Potter who spoke first. Severus found such odd, but judging by the topic the child brought up, he had inherited Lily's tenacity for learning. He was uncertain how to respond for a moment, having not anticipated Potter's actual presence within any meeting to take place with Hellsing. The front he was displaying now was certainly not his normal attitude towards others. Such could potentially injure the child upon attending the school.

"What do you teach, Professor?"

"Potions."

Short and straight to the point without being rude. The child blinked at him. Observing his features, Severus attempted to pick out the resemblance to James, but found himself failing. Aside from the hair and general cheek bone structure, he more strongly resembled his mother. He cursed Dumbledore all the more. Since he realized Potter would be attending the school this year, he had been psyching himself up to deal with a carbon-copy of James. This quiet, polite, Potter though, was difficult to hate. He suspiciously wondered if that had not been part of the Headmaster's plan.

"I've read some of my first year book. It sounds dangerous, but interesting."

The others at the table seemed content to merely listen to the exchange. Sir Hellsing had a look of careful neutrality, while Bloodclaw was observing Potter with a pleased little smile. The two muggles seemed unmoved by the talk of magic, or the orc, causing Severus to contemplate whether or not they were truly muggles at all. Though knowing of their line of work, he suspected this to not be the strangest conversation they had overheard.

"It is a highly delicate art. Few have the self discipline required for a true mastery or understanding of the components. Because of this, I run an extremely strict classroom to aid in preventing anyone blowing themselves or their classmates up."

The child nodded in understanding, gaze still guarded. He seemed to warm up to the adults surrounding him, if only slightly. Looking as if to comment further, Potter was interrupted by the butler's re-entrance with a cart.

The meal was eaten in stilted silence, for which Severus was thankful. Small talk aggravated him, and it allowed a chance to more carefully observe ones surroundings. The orc dug into the roast with gusto, seemingly ignoring everyone else around him, though the wizard suspected the opposite. Sir Integra and her lieutenants ate with the poise and reservation expected from those trained for high society. The image they painted was deceiving, as he noted their eyes straying to him on occasion. Sizing him up. As for the child, he picked at his food with disinterest, only taking small bites when Sir Integra stared in his direction.

The display told Severus a great deal regarding the situation. The adults were displaying signs of protectiveness over Potter. Even Sir Integra, curiously, as her looks forced the child to eat more and more from his plate. Though he began to look a bit ill with only half his plate cleaned. After that point, the looks from Integra ceased. The two males seemed disinterested in the entire affair, aside from obviously following orders as armed guards should things get out of hand. The orc, as Potter's personal representative from Gringotts, would be here with the child's best interests in mind. The retainer like-wise watched from beside the door with a keen gaze.

It was when the plates were empty – for the most part, that Severus dreaded the inevitable point in which Sir Integra got to her feet, signaling the end of the pleasantries. The plates were left on the table, no doubt for a maid to pick up later, and they were motioned into an ante chamber off the dining room which Severus was irked to have missed during his observations. He was clearly out of practice as a spy, to have not noticed the potential exit or hiding place for an ambush.

The room was brightly lit, if a touch cold in décor. It was windowless and drab despite the lavish chairs and couches arranged in front of a grand fireplace. This was obviously a study of sorts. The soldiers remained standing with the butler near the door, only the key 'players' of the charade taking seats. Integra claimed a chair backed by the fireplace, the lighting throwing her features into shadows. Harry and the orc took their seats on a single couch. Thus left Severus with but two choices. He claimed the chair directly across from Sir Integra.

He was nearly expecting it, but still a touch surprised, as she finally got down to business. "What do you hope to gain by coming here?"

Such fragile ground he found himself on, as he was uncertain of just what Dumbledore had told her via their correspondence. However considering his notions of defection, he found himself substantially lacking in care. Eying her squarely, he decided to be candid.

"I am only here because Dumbledore, ordered me here. My objective was to remove Mr. Potter from your care."

Some perverse pleasure was had as even the orc looked surprised at such a proclamation. They had obviously anticipated some form of deceit. Hardly Severus' style when he had made up his mind regarding a situation. By Potter's dark, closed-off look at the idea, he had chosen correctly.

"You speak as if you have second thoughts about such orders.

"Loath though I am to aid a Potter, I would be remiss in helping displace a child once again, on a whim. I was sent to observe, and to either find legal fault with the situation, or exploitation to convince you to give him up. As I see no such thing, my work is complete. "

Even he had to admit to feeling uncomfortable under the woman's scrutiny. No doubt she was a commander of her forces through her own merit rather than inheritance. That fact garnered more than a little amount of respect, knowing what he did of standard leadership roles to those who embraced them fully. Impatience coursed through him as she paused a long moment to consider his words.

"What do you know of the headmaster's plans?"

Gritting his teeth as she asked the one question he could not answer in truth, he shook his head. "I know a great many things. But none of which I can speak. Certain... _contractual_ obligations... I can say, however, that he believes his intentions to be for the _greater good_."

Expression darkening considerably, her fists tightened on the armrests. He knew that his meaning was fully understood. Good. He was thoroughly sick of needing to spell everything out for everyone. Rising to his feet, he bowed minutely as her glare was directed on him full force. Her next words, he was expecting and pleased by, as they solidified his resolve.

"Tell your Master that if any more attempts are made to abduct Potter, he will be pursued under the full extent of Hellsing _and_ goblin law. Walter, see him out!"

* * *

_July 26, 1991; 09:00pm, __Hellsing Headquarters, East Wing Master Bedroom_

Harry's head still spun from the meal, making him feel both exhausted and wide awake. The experience in itself had been nerve wracking, what with being forced to eat so much food with Integra's gaze bearing down upon him, and so many adults present. He had nearly shocked himself silly by actually speaking to the dark man. Potions had seemed like an interesting topic to him, but actually speaking when he was not spoken to was something he had not planned. And to a stranger no less!

The more troubling notion of course came after the meal. The air had been buzzing with pent up meaning which had only become clear to him after the Professor stated his business. Why on earth would the Headmaster of Hogwarts want to remove him from Hellsing? Harry was insignificant. Even the vampire called him a 'mouse'! So why would someone whom he had never met want him? He broke out into cold sweats just thinking of it. At least with Hellsing he had chosen his lot willingly.

Bloodclaw had assured him that there was nothing anyone could do about his decision, as it was final on all fronts. But it did not dispel the anxiety and slight fear welling up within him. Further confusion warred at Sir Integra's reaction to the idea. She had seemed furious at the notion of him being taken away. But that could not be right, could it? She did not know him. The only reason she let him stay was because she had to.

What if she felt obligated? Rationalizing it to himself, it made sense. She might be worried that if Harry were taken away, he would kick her from the manor. He would never do that! But he supposed that she simply viewed him as an ungrateful burden. She had even admitted to him that his presence in the manor was disrupting her operation.

Before anymore thoughts of unrest could manifest in his overactive mind, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. The odd sensation heralding Alucard's arrival did wonders for shocking him from his depressed musing. Schooling his features beneath the familiar mask, Harry turned to face the vampire. While his opinion of the being was still pending, he fancied Alucard was as inhuman as one could possibly get for conversation without requesting a trip to the gardens to see if the grounds housed a snake.

"So a fret over nothing, little mouse. Your emotions were tangible all the way from the basement."

The vampire seemed oddly solemn, given his previous attitudes around Harry. Though to the wizard, the vampire did seem rather moody on normal occasion since they had met. Despite the knowledge, Harry felt an odd mix of remorse and resentment for having disturbed the creature in some way. He was already experiencing dual emotions regarding his current situation without having someone point out the obvious.

"I'm sorry. I'll emote more quietly."

Contrary to Harry's expectation, the quiet snark prompted an amused chuckle from the being. He was slowly beginning to realize that things which would normally earn him a beating from the Dursleys, were actually held in good regard by these people. Though he supposed he should not take Alucard as an example. He could recall reading books about fictional vampires in primary school, and in most of the depictions, the vampires tended towards frowned upon behavior in polite society.

A smirk crept across Alucard's face, as if reading his thoughts. The notion made Harry uncomfortable. The smirk just as slowly disappeared. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment before the reason for his presence was announced.

"You were brave, if foolish, for so blinding reaching out for aid... The question remains, whether or not you are just as tenacious in overcoming the lingering burdens. Physical wounds heal... Mental scars never cease to fester until they are re-examined head on."

The inflection in his tone suggested an odd tenderness beneath the plain statement. But Harry shrugged it off as a trick of his own mind. He wanted people to care about him, so he imposed the impression on his rescuers. There was no conceivable reason why a vampire would care about him. In all likelihood the prompt in topic was Sir Integra's doing.

A frown tugged at the corner of Alucard's mouth, abruptly forcing Harry's thoughts to cease as mild nerves coiled at the perceived negative reaction. He was there-for surprised when the vampire knelt in front of him, reminiscent of their official meeting earlier. His tone was colder, though his expression did not change. It caused a shiver to pass down Harry's spine.

"Little mouse, it is by my own interests that I pursue your company. My orders were to leave you alone, but I confess curiosity is my eternal burden. I do not care about you further than my master does. But that does not imply a complete lack of regard. Know that when I speak with you, unless stated otherwise, I am doing so under my own power and interests."

.

.

.

* * *

**Note: **Hopefully I didn't disappoint with this one. I've been busy getting college taken care of irl. It's consumed a large chunk of my time and energy the past few weeks, so I haven't had as much time to write. Yes, even less time to write than usual, if you can believe that from my normal lapse in updates.


	11. Precipice

_August 10, 1991; 02:00pm, __Hellsing Headquarters, Integra's Office. _

A couple of weeks had passed since the arrival of Harry Potter, and the 'meeting' with Professor Snape. Things had settled down to an acceptable level for the Hellsing head, though nearly to a fault, as she found herself with little to occupy her own thoughts on the topic. She was still presented with the uncomfortable requirement of getting to know her charge before the beginning of the school term. Knowing now the situation with Dumbledore, she wanted the boy to feel comfortable enough to contact her personally should anything occur.

Easily thought, but more difficult in practice, paperwork and overseeing operations was merely a flimsy excuse for her lax attitude. Simply she had no clue as to how to actually approach the boy. By reports from Walter, Potter was now accepting, and less shy about his associations with the assassin, and Alucard. However prolonged social interactions still presented issue for him. He had reverted behind his shields during the physical examination by her doctor, and tended towards reclusive when presented with the servants or soldiers.

At the very least, he seemed to excel at the exercises Walter instructed him on. He was indeed a good runner, though they all suspected underlying reasons beyond his physical build. One lap around the manor was pushing his endurance, but he was bloody fast, as she had witnessed personally from her office window some days. The retainer preferred the boy stay at a steady jog so as not to overtax himself, however at times a fancy seemed to overtake the child into an all out sprint.

Likewise he had gained some weight under Integra's watch during meals. While still unable to finish his entire plate, she considered it a victory despite the headache. Glancing at her watch, she made a split second decision. Enough of this loitering around like nervous little girl. Harry was her problem now, and time was short. Climbing to her feet she made her way out of the office, heading towards one of the more private balconies she knew Walter served the boy afternoon tea on.

Arriving at the balcony, she was pleased to note that neither had arrived yet. Taking a seat, she took a moment to compose herself, and how she might broach the topic of conversation. It had been a grave error in judgment to not socialize with the boy immediately upon his arrival to the manor. Earning his trust now may yet prove troublesome, however she was not one to give up easily. Simply, it would be the 'delicate' side which she might fail.

Footsteps in the den alerted her to their arrival, causing her to sit up straighter in her seat. She forced her features to remain relaxed, as the boy froze in the doorway at her presence. Walter quirked an eyebrow at her from behind, light smirk creeping onto his face as he gently urged Potter out. He complied hesitantly, taking the only seat remaining of the small patio set, across from Integra. The retainer made quick work of pouring them both tea, leaving the kettle, and setting out a tray of biscuits, before retreating back inside.

Suspicion nagged at Integra at the thoughtful inclusion of a second cup to the tea service, however she quickly got back down to business. Observing Harry's mannerisms, it was obvious that she had disrupted a comfortable ritual of his. He remained tense in his seat, not touching either food or drink. A sigh escaped her as she felt a headache build.

"I apologize for dropping in unannounced. I simply wish to know how you have settled in."

It was strange, feeling compelled to apologize to someone for sitting within her own home. However it seemed to be the right thing to do, as the boy looked confused, ever so slowly relaxing. He at last reached for his cup, taking a small sip before he responded quietly.

"Everyone treats me so nicely here."

Reaching for her own tea, she scrutinized him over the rim as she took a deep drink. He looked far healthier than previous times she had seen him about. Bruises had faded, and his frame seemed to have filled out to nearly what it should be for a boy his age. There were dark circles under his eyes, denoting a lack of sound sleep. In truth, she would have been far more concerned about him if he were sleeping without nightmares.

Turning her attention back to his comment, she forced a slight smile to her lips. It felt foreign, as she had not truly had reason to smile in a long while. Though it was not genuine to the topic, it seemed to place the boy even more at ease, if only slightly.

"You will find yourself growing use to it, I hope... I also hope that you have come to realize, that you will never be deliberately harmed here. The goblin's contract is only a small part of it. Harming a child goes against every code that Hellsing stands for."

That garnered a nod, though not much else for a reaction. She did not expect him to believe her quite yet, however she knew that his experiences within the manor would speak for itself eventually. He at last seemed confident enough to reach for one of the sweets. His table manners would need to be addressed once he was older, as crumbs sprinkled down his front as he consumed the treat. For now, Integra did not mind. It told her that he was indeed growing accustomed to his surroundings enough to not worry for punishment from sloppy eating habits.

They remained in silence for a several long moments, as Harry ate and Integra observed him. More, she was collecting her thoughts and pondering how to go about reassuring him without being completely fake. Such dancing around a subject irritated her. Deciding to cut to the chase, she sighed, catching the boys attention.

"You have only a short time before you leave for school. I would hope that you recall, and are aware of, the potential dangers associated with such."

It took a moment, but Harry at last responded, looking a bit uneasy. Good, it showed that he had a good head on his shoulders. She had been concerned that he had not understood the implication behind Professor Snape's little visit.

"I... know that the Headmaster wants me taken away from here... Do you know why?"

The question pleased the Hellsing head. "I suspect I might have an idea. Your status as the defeater of Voldemort would prove a highly useful bargaining chip in some political circles."

He did not look overly confused with the proclamation. Regarding him silently for a moment, she almost thought she detected a hint of resentment. So he had read some of the books he had acquired. It removed one more migraine from her life. The possibility that he did not know of his significance to the wizarding world had caused her some irritation. However, getting back to her plans, she cleared her throat lightly.

"Should anything happen while you are there, anything at all, I want you to inform me immediately. Not only for your own safety, but because of the headmaster. There is no telling his true motives until he plays his cards. This puts you in danger and jeopardizes this entire organization... You still have that sphere Alucard gave you?"

The guilty look on his face nearly made her reconsider her own words. However they were absolutely true. With Potter's presence, Dumbledore could very well get nasty if his wants were not seen to. With the muggle status of most of her troops, having a powerful wizard out to destroy them could very well spell disaster.

After a moment of fidgeting, he at last nodded in agreement. While she disapproved of the casual fraternization, she decided to make Alucard's interference in Potter's life useful beyond her base plan. She knew of the sphere's true purpose even if the boy had not yet figured it out.

"As I am certain you are aware, Alucard possesses many abilities, not the least of which is communicating over distance. That, however, is reserved for myself, and those tied to him through blood. I will have Walter rig something up with a necklace. Cary the shadow with you at all times while you are in Scotland. If you find yourself in danger, or in need of anything, speak into it, and I shall be informed."

He nodded silently, causing her to frown. "Do not hesitate to use it. I am your guardian until the end of your schooling. Should you even so much as get a splinter, I want to know." Making a split-second decision, she reached to the small of her back under her shirt and withdrew a small pistol from a concealed holster. It packed a punch despite the size, perfect for situations where you would not wish someone to know of it. Harry's eyes darted to it, only mildly interested.

"Walter will be training you on how to use one of these." Gauging his reaction, she detected a note of surprise. Silently she admitted even to herself that it was highly suspect to be teaching an eleven year old on firearms. Then again, such had been her upbringing even before her uncle's betrayal. It really was for the boy's safety.

"You will not be touching a real one until you learn the basics. However given the nature of our operations here, it would not do at all for you to not know how to properly defend yourself."

Returning the pistol to its place, she downed the rest of her tea. "You will begin tomorrow. The instruction will not be complete before you leave for school, but should you chose to return for term breaks, it will continue, as well as next summer."

At last the silence on his end was broken, to her pleasure. Having to prompt him for verbal responses was quite grating. He fussed with his empty tea cup as he questioned, "Do... would you want me back for breaks, Sir?"

She covered a wince and waved him off. "When we are alone, call me Integra. Or if you are uncomfortable with such informality, a mere 'Miss Hellsing'. As you will be under my watch for the foreseeable future, I would like to dispense of the formalities. As to the rest... I would like to get to know you. Though I hope you realize, I am also new to such situations. I am not the 'motherly' type to put it plainly, however I take my charge of your well-being seriously. I would prefer if you returned during holidays, with the current situation being what it is, however the choice is yours."

Harry nodded slowly, mind working a mile a minute as her words contradicted his previous assumptions about the situation. She was at least honest. Eyes could tell a lot about a person, and hers were serious and steady throughout the discussion. The reassurance caused a knot in his belly to unfurl a little. Anxiety still ran rampant about it, but she addressed him as an adult... not a child. Even to offer him lessons in self defense was enough to ease some of his fears. Logic dictated that if he were a burden, he would be shunned to the side and ignored, not allowed to decide his own actions, or given training which had the potential to be used against them.

Fidgeting in his seat, he forced the nerve to at last voice a question that had been burning in his mind since he read his mother's letter. He had been too weak of will to ask previous when he found himself in the Hellsing's company. Having her speaking so frankly with him was a relief to that unease. Wetting his lips, he tilted his head curiously.

"S- erm, Integra... I was just wondering, but... Who is the No Life King?" He rushed to explain, as her expression darkened near imperceptibly. "It's just that, my mum wrote in one of her letters... Said whoever it is could... help me learn to control my magic before school. She said that I should ask you, or Arthur Hellsing."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Integra felt a migraine build as Alucards previous words came into startling clarity. Of course the rat would have been there reading the letters over Potter's shoulder. Not that it should shock her horribly. She likewise recalled his explanation of Harry's potential origins. She had dismissed it out of hand as a lapse in his sanity, or the possibility that Harry had not inherited his titles through blood. That seemed foolish in hindsight.

Belatedly recalling Harry's presence, she sighed heavily, though had to force a slight smirk. Reaching for her cigar case, she commented almost idly. "Oh, the No Life King is around. I believe you have met him already."

A calculating look appeared on the boy's face. Once against he was proving to be a pleasant surprise. Most children would have whined and complained at such hinting without using their heads. The look of recognition took less time than she thought, in crossing Harry's expression. He picking at a thread on his shirt, looking uncomfortable.

"...Alucard?"

Not bothering to respond, Integra climbed to her feet, lighting up a cigar. She regarded him silently for a moment, smirk still toying around the edges of her mouth. The lack of confirmation of his assumption merely caused the boy to frown slightly, nodding to himself as he solidified his own resolve of the answer. There was the reaction she was looking for. Blowing out a puff of smoke, she turned and began making her way back inside.

"Walter will be expecting you tomorrow after breakfast... Be sure you are not late."

_August 11, 1991; 08:00am, Hellsing Headquarters, Library_

Harry entered the imposing room with some trepidation. Today was to be his first lesson on guns, and he was nervous despite Integra's assurance that he would not actually have to touch one, let alone use it. He had never encountered a firearm personally, aside from air rifles and toy BB guns gifted to Dudley. The teachers in primary school had cautioned them to never handle a gun, as they were dangerous. He knew what they looked like of course, but he was painfully aware of his ignorance.

To his relief, he spied Walter sitting at one of the small tables, some books and a strange kit resting at his elbow. No weapon was in sight, so obviously he was sticking to Integra's word. Catching sight of Harry, Walter smiled and waved him over, seeming focused on an open book in front of him. Taking a seat hesitantly, Harry peered at the books, curiosity getting the better of him. They were books on guns, one looking like a catalog of parts. At last Walter's attention was drawn to him.

"Glad to see you so prompt. I trust you had a good breakfast?"

Nodding automatically, Harry suppressed a wince. He had managed to eat all of the food on his plate, but now felt ill from it. He knew it was for his own good, but it did not stop him feeling some resentment for being forced to make himself sick at meals. Walter seemed to guess the unvoiced grievance, as he looked sympathetic.

"I am proud of you. It might not seem like it now, but you are making fine progress. After a time the nausea will go away. Your body simply needs to adjust to consuming the amount of food it needs."

Harry colored slightly at the praise, staring at the grain of the table. A warm feeling tickled his stomach, foreign to him, but there none the less. It felt good to hear encouragement for once. Spearing him with a knowing look, Walter cleared his throat lightly, getting down to business. He pushed a notebook and pen over to Harry.

"For now, these lessons will only be theory. The things you learn will not go into practice until I am satisfied that you fully understand and acknowledge the requirement of handling a firearm. It is a great responsibility, as how you handle them could mean life or death for yourself and others." He paused, letting his words sink in.

"Now, I would like you to take notes, for reference. I will begin by outlining safety procedures. While the majority of adults here, admittedly, do not follow such guidelines, it is imperative that _you _do. At least until you are older and better equipped to handle such lapses should they occur."

Nodding, Harry dutifully opened the notebook, taking up the pen. He glanced expectantly at Walter, prompting a quiet chuckle. While he was still wary, the wizard found he liked the older man. He acted as both a teacher and... how he thought a real uncle should act. Twitching slightly, Harry focused back on the notebook, embarrassed at his own thoughts.

Pretending not to notice the strange look on Harry's face, Walter began. "The first rule of handling a gun. Never point it at another living being unless you intend to kill them. A gun is not a toy, nor should they _ever _be treated as such. They can and will kill if handled incorrectly. Despite my words earlier, _this _is the rule which all here follow without fail."

Scribbling down a paraphrase, Harry underlined the entire thing. He took the words to heart. He had no wish to kill anybody, but he understood the reason for the lesson. Satisfied with the serious expression on the boy's face, Walter continued.

"Second, always assume a gun is loaded. Without fail, the worst accidents and deaths occur when someone has a laps in this rule especially. To that end, never touch the trigger unless you intend to shoot. And always keep it pointed away from yourself and others when handling it."

"Third, maintenance is key. Oil and debris builds in the mechanism, severely increasing the chances of accidental discharge and other likewise accidents which could harm you, or cause the gun to jam during use. Even if you never use it, you must be sure to clean it regularly."

Pausing to gather his thoughts, Walter pondered on other important topics he was forgetting. It had been an ungodly long time since he had the need to instruct anyone on safety. Deciding he could get back to it if he recalled, he opened one of his books on gunsmithing, turning it for Harry to see the diagram of a .38 and its parts. He was pleased that the boy seemed eager to learn, and serious about it. Though he had not doubted otherwise.

"This is a .38 revolver. Or a '38 Special' if you prefer. It holds five rounds, and exhibits a low amount of force when fired, dependent upon the bullet type."

Harry listened with interest as Walter explained and pointed out the various parts to the hand gun, describing the individual purpose of each part, and how it effects the whole. It was a bit overwhelming, but he found himself drawn in by Walter's obvious knowledge and enthusiasm on the topic. Moving on from the revolver after a short time, the butler turned to more commonly used pistols. He turned it into a quiz of sorts, asking Harry to point out the similarity in parts and mechanisms from the revolver.

He was patient if Harry became confused, pausing to thoroughly go over whatever specific he was having issue with. It reminded Harry of primary school, though far more involved, as this teacher was focused solely on him. The time flew by, and he was startled when Walter finally trailed off, closing the book and getting to his feet.

"I dare say we missed lunch! Why don't you head over to the patio, and I'll fix us up an early tea." He paused nodding towards the books. "Feel free to take any of those to look over later. Also, before I forget, I have something for you."

Reaching into his pocket, Walter extracted a simple looking gold chain. The links were small and plain, though an equally small decorative amulet was attached. It was fashioned in the shape of serpentine dragons, twisting to cradle a non-existent gem. The details were quite amazing for how delicate it looked. Harry took it hesitantly when it was offered, staring at it strangely.

"Sir Integra requested you use it to house Alucard's 'gift'. He can manipulate it to fit the piece. You may also consider it a late birthday present. I regret that I was unable to discover the date previous to the occasion. I would like to make it up, however. Do you have any preferred dinners or desserts?"

Reeling at the unexpected happening, all Harry could do was stammer for a moment. Walter waited patiently, looking both concerned and humored. The passing of Harry's birthday had not meant much. At the Dursleys, the most he had ever received was a used lint roller and bent coat hanger. He had not thought much of it, and had even been glad to receive no recognition for it. The thought that someone wanted to do something special for him was overwhelming.

Recovering his bearings, Harry twitched, scrambling to recall Walter's question. "Erm... I suppose I fancied roast beef and chips when I tried them."

Walter made a thoughtful noise, taking mental note to inform the kitchen staff of tonight's supper. "What of desserts?"

Fidgeting, Harry had to think back to the very few times he was ever allowed sweets, or was able to sneak them. He had rather liked a sneaked taste of treacle tart, but had never had the chance for more than a fearful lick of the bowl. Quietly informing Walter of such, he received an approving smile. With a brief farewell, he turned to make his way to the kitchen.

Dutifully, Harry likewise made his way out to the balcony. Once again, one of the seats was already occupied. Alucard lounged rather lazily in a chair which he had drug to a more shaded portion near the door. It was an overcast day, but shafts of sunlight managed to shine through. Nearly tripping over his own feet, Harry froze for a moment at the unexpected visitor, before hurriedly claiming his normal seat.

The vampire seemed oblivious of the display, red fedora and glasses firmly in place. He almost looked to be asleep, except for brief movements of his fingers when Harry sat down. Silence reined for several long moments. Finally growing unnerved by it, the wizard who spoke up first.

"I thought vampires hated sunlight?"

The seeming corpse stirred after a moment, nasty chuckle sounding as he slowly sat up. Harry was confused when Alucard removed his sunglasses, though grateful at the unobstructed view of his eyes. Contrary to the laugh, the vampire seemed amused, crossing his legs in a relaxed pose.

"Being up during the day is exhausting. But fleeing from it is what maggots do."

Harry could respect such an answer. He could not imagine a vampire being frightened of anything, so the image of Alucard fleeing at the sight of a celestial body seemed absurd. Though it also put the boy to shame, for his own reactions to various things in life. Sensing the turn of thought, Alucard frowned, abruptly standing to stalk over to a chair closer to the wizard. Harry was silently shocked at his own lack of reaction to the unexpected move. Alucard noticed as well.

Leaning forward in his new seat, he smirked toothily, "Grown men have soiled themselves at my very presence... yet you do not even flinch. You are a brave one."

Feeling compelled, Harry shook his head, staring out over the lawn. He knew he was being mocked by the vampire's tone. Quietly, "Not brave... just more afraid of other things."

A strange look passed over the No Life King's face at that, a brief flash, before returning to one of vague amusement. Gesturing idly, he held out his hand, palm up. "Let me see the necklace."

For a moment, Harry almost forgot what he was talking about, before his thoughts turned back to present. Reaching into his jeans pocket he brought out Walter's gift, pausing briefly before handing it over. The fine piece of jewelry was a bit too much for him. He hesitated to wear it. What if he lost it, or it grew tarnished? Walter and Integra both would think him ungrateful and careless.

He watched with some interest as Alucard looked it over. The hair on the back of his neck tingled as the vampire closed his fist around the delicate amulet. Harry expected it, when the necklace was offered back on an open palm. Where the dragons once cradled thin air, there sat a surprisingly solid blackness. Harry's experience with shadows thus far had been just that. The one Alucard had made for him was tangible enough to hold, but lacked much else beyond. The new shadow was almost gem-like, with a smooth surface which seemed to reject light.

Letting out an impatient sigh, Alucard shifted tactics, leaning forward in his seat and shifting his hold to the chain. He crooked a finger at Harry, indicating for him to lean forward. The boy complied slowly, but it was a start. Unhooking the end of the chain, Alucard expertly put it on him, fastening the clasps and adjusting the amulet to lie just over Harry's heart. His touch lingered for a moment, but again, the boy surprised him. Rather than worrying over the close proximity, his gaze was directed to Alucard's hands.

"What do the symbols on your gloves mean?"

Smirking mysteriously, Alucard leaned back, resuming his previous pose. He almost seemed disinclined to respond, before at last he chuckled. The languid once-over of the boy's frame _did _make him fidget, but Alucard chose to let his gaze linger on the amulet, and Harry's chest. Really, Alucard was no Roman. The thought made him snicker openly. Harry frowned at him.

"I shall tell you, little mouse, when you tell me what _yours _mean."

Before Harry could respond, the sounds of Walter entering the den with afternoon tea distracted him, causing him to glance towards the door. When his attention resumed to Alucard, the vampire was gone. Puzzled, the wizard leaned back in his chair, reaching up to gently examine the gem. It felt cool to the touch, but its weight was oddly comforting.

Sir Integra said that he should speak to it if he ever needed help. The thought crossed his mind that it was some sort of tracking device, but he shrugged it away. Even if it were, he didn't have anything worth hiding. Except maybe his own shadows... But Alucard manipulated them with ease... The fact that he was not human was irrelevant. Harry was human. The notion pulled at his logic. Surely these people more than anyone might accept him despite his freakishness. Even his own mother had said he should speak to Alucard. By proxy, he suspected Integra would know about it anyway.

Tentative decision reached, he glanced up to greet Walter, the scent of fresh fruit and tea causing his stomach to rumble.

_August 31, 1991; 07:00pm, Hellsing Headquarters, __East Wing Master Bedroom _

Despite all intentions, Harry's last days before school were spent in solitude, barring lessons and meals. A flurry of strange activity throughout the manor made him suspect that something was happening, or had happened. Sir Integra was largely absent from meals. The few she attended, caught him a glimpse of a very different Integra than he had grown used to. Often snappish and exhausted, Harry had learned to keep silent around her. Though for once, he did not take it personally. Even he could tell that her stress was directed elsewhere.

Alucard was likewise absent, though he had seen Walter going down into the basements with blood packets. The butler himself still talked to Harry when he was able, but was overburdened with his normal duties added to a 'special assignment' he had mentioned once to the wizard. All in all, he found it lonely, if leagues better than he had ever experienced before in his life. The solitude allowed him more time to peruse his school books and the journals. Curiously, Hellsing's journal had gone missing after his inquiry about Alucard's gloves. For once, he did not worry, suspecting he knew who was responsible.

Anxiety ate away at him, turning dinner sour in his stomach. The only experience he had with a school setting was primary school. Dudley's fat had always overshadowed any enjoyment he may have gotten from learning. Add to that, forcing himself to throw his own grades. But this... This was entirely different, and he knew it. Doubt clouded his mind. What if he got there, and he could not perform magic? What if this was all some sort of huge mistake? Even if he could do magic; what about his school mates?

Heaving an annoyed sigh, he pushed his chair away from the desk and stood, pacing over to peer out the window. It was already twilight, but he could see the faint glow of floodlights from the back lawn. It was not lost on him that the soldiers did not normally run 'night' drills until the hours just before dawn. Walter had mentioned it to him, in case he felt the need to wander at night for whatever reason. Curious, but not curious enough, he closed the curtains before flopping onto the bed.

It really was too early to sleep, and he was too nervous. But the long wait was beginning to wear on him. It was aggravating, having so many dual emotions crashing about in his gut and head. He had already gone through such things when he had arrived at the manor. Now they were more irksome than serving any real self preservation method. Save perhaps the situation with Dumbledore. But the comfortable weight of the shadow gem alleviated any associated worry. He may have issues with asking for help, but he would not allow himself to be walked over like a doormat again.

Rolling over onto his stomach, he stared blankly at the wall. Waiting was boring, but it was something he was good at. He had nothing to do at the Dursleys but work, and wait. A few hours was not long at all compared to the years he had waited in the cupboard under the stairs. Summoning up some concentration, he turned his palm upward, closing his eyes and imagining shadows forming.

For a moment, nothing happened, but he waited patiently, forcing himself to calm enough for this. Slowly, a tingling sensation passed down his arm, not unlike the sensation caused by Alucard's manipulation. Still, he did not open his eyes. Prompting his own mind, he imagined shadows formed in the shape of a bird. It took a moment for his thoughts to settle enough for such a thing, but slowly he worked to keep the shadow bird tangible behind his eyelids. The tingling sensation increased, but he refused to open his eyes until the mental image ceased attempting to disperse.

At last, he tentatively peeked at it, frown forming as he glimpsed his work. The shadows were loosely coalesced into a misshapen blob. It looked rather remarkably as if someone had taken a bird, chopped off one wing, and glued on an extra head. Sighing, he let the shadows disperse. At least it had attempted to become something. The most he had ever managed was an intangible ball. The exercise left him calmer, though a bit fatigued. Glancing at the clock, he sat up to turn off the light.

He would sleep while he could, before the anxiety threatened to overwhelm him again.

August 31, 1991; 07:00pm, _Hellsing Headquarters Sub-Basement _

The strange power flared, more powerful than before, causing the blood flowing through Alucard's veins to rejoice. A wicked grin tugged his lips as he idly sipped blood mixed with wine. The power's feel was just as enticing as ever. So close, yet still so far... The enigma of its origins no longer plagued him, inspiring a hilarity. Even mice caused great devastation if left unchecked. A nasty chuckle escaped. Oh, but what wonderful carnage!

His heart raced with the thirst for battle. The pitiful gnats Integra chased were not worthy of his time, yet she set him upon them like a dog. The collar chaffed, but he would wear it if it meant his continued proximity to the power, and its source. Oh, if only but a taste... It would sate his hunger for eternity for but a single drop of the boy's blood. A faction of that power added to the pool... His form shuddered for a moment, twisting grotesquely with limbs of pure darkness, before reforming.

Oh what fun he could have with the boy, while waiting for his opportunity.

.

.

.

* * *

**Note: **I would just like to give a big thank you to my reviewers. You lot keep ones spirits up and the will to write active during more pressing times. I don't always respond to everyone individually, but I do read them all, and appreciate the feedback.

Though feedback is what the review system is meant for. Polite reviews give me warm fuzzies, even if it's only to tell me to 'Please Update' or 'Please update soon'. Polite feedback, even if it's just a short note. I have received less than polite seeming notes regarding story plot, or outright demands for me to update. The nit-picking of the story plots are good, in that they get me thinking and planning ahead. However, remember that the politer you are in such feedbacks, the more I am likely to consider the advice/questions/or problems pointed out.

As to the update demands, perhaps think upon your own wording (or lack there-of) before submitting it, as even an error in omitting key words can be construed as rude.

**A Note on Harry's and Vernon's behavior, since I have received more than one review expressing confusion of Vernon's actions, and Harry's own methods during his escape.**

Humans are often predictable in their unpredictability. Fear manifests itself to different people in different ways, there-for making them react counter-intuitively (Fight or Flight response). Vernon's fear manifests in a superiority complex by which he feels compelled to show his dominance over what he fears.

Vernon does not strike me as a strong-willed individual even in canon, however in this AU, he was obviously of weaker will, leading to loss of control and inhibition during the adrenalin rush of his fits of rage against his fear (Harry) once his dominance was asserted through physical demoralization.

Harry knew of his wizard magic, and he was even able to begin physically manipulating shadows; however that is entirely different than being able to consciously use either to a practical end. The wizard magic as stated in canon, requires either training with a wand (controlled), or extreme moments of stress to manifest in a chaotic and unpredictable way (accidental magic). In this aspect of Harry Potter canon, the 'rules' regarding wizard magic remain the same to an extent.

He had become so desensitized to his treatment at the Dursleys that his emotional state was not severely impacted enough by simple thoughts of them, or Hogwarts, to manifest the accidental magic. Likewise for his shadow manipulation, he lacked experience in controlling it effectively enough to use against them.

His chosen means of poison was brought about by his labors in his Aunt's garden, as the easiest method available to him at the time. How would he have gotten to London without the free ride?

**'This isn't going to be a meek Harry story is it seriously?'**

Most Certainly not. If I wanted Harry to be an effeminate weakling, I would not bother.

Rather, at the moment his actions and reactions are not the best method to judge his future characterization and personality. He is in a strange place, surrounded by new people, having ideals and situations he has never experienced before thrust upon him.

Anyone with his past would find themselves hard pressed to catch their bearings immediately. As soon as things begin to pick up and move along faster, the changes will become more obvious after a while.


	12. First Steps

_September 1, 1991; 05:00am, Hellsing Headquarters, Dining Room_

Unsettling silence reined throughout the manor, unusual even for the ungodly hour. It seemed that only the morning staff puttered around, attempting to shake off sleep, or fighting through staying awake after restless nights spent with nightmares or their own company. Harry found the quiet soothing, however the lack of people he had come to grow accustomed to grated, as he crept into the private dining room.

Despite nerves, he had gotten his first restful sleep in ages, however it did little to dispel anxieties over the entire affair with leaving for school. Surprising to him, as he peered around the room, he spied Walter with a plate of breakfast, reading the newspaper as he sipped from a cup of what smelled like coffee. He glanced up, clearly surprised to see Harry- Or anyone else for that matter. It was an hour before the retainer would normally wake Harry, or prod Integra out of her office.

"Good morning, Harry. Would you like some breakfast?"

The boy shook his head, looking a bit ill as the food scent finally reached him. Walter smirked faintly. "Ah, have the jitters, then? You needn't forgo food, or you'll be sick on the train. At least have some toast."

Walter obligingly offered Harry his plate. Hesitant at first, the boy twitched as politeness won out. He was not hungry, but he admitted that the honey and butter on the crisp bread was calming, in a strange way. He had not often been allowed sweets at the Dursleys; he found himself enjoying the things that he had missed out on. Walter smiled at him knowingly as he folded up the paper and sat it aside.

"Sir Integra will be unable to accompany you to the platform, however I will be seeing you through. A dangerous situation has kept us all detained and on edge, as I'm sure you've noticed. Quite frankly it will be a relief to be out for a short while. We will be leaving at eight o'clock."

The reminder made Harry grimace, setting the toast back down. "What... what if this is all some sort of mistake? What if I can't do magic?" Speaking his fears aloud made the young wizard itch uncomfortably. He was still largely unused to the lack of ridicule or disdain. Though, he was adjusting, by the mere fact that he was speaking to the butler without prompt.

Walter appreciated the trust he seemed to have gained in the boy. Approaching the topic carefully, he queried, "Have you never made anything unusual happen before? Such as a wound healing quicker than it should. Or other similar occurrences."

Almost shaking his head in the negative, Harry paused as he belatedly recalled some distant memory. Biting his lip, he fidgeted, before finally dredging up the courage to mention it. "I was running from my cousin once, and suddenly found myself on the school roof."

Shooting Harry a comforting smile, Walter nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes. That is called 'accidental' magic. An uncontrolled burst of power, normally caused by high emotional distress. It manifests in wizard children quite commonly."

Truthfully, the topic was one that Walter had been wondering at as well. He knew of the abuse Harry had suffered at the hands of his relatives. It puzzled him that very few incidents of accidental magic seemed to have occurred at the Dursley residence. The ministry of magic kept log files for all such incidents, in case interference for muggle-borns was needed. The goblins had rather gleefully furnished Harry's report, for a 'small' fee. According to the record, he only had four cases of accidental magic. Once, turning his teacher's hair blue, when he was seven years old. Next, growing his own hair back, twice in the same year. Last, a most curious display of self preservation, by aparating himself onto the roof of his school.

But yet, not a single case had occurred within the Dursley residence. Of course Walter had learned the names of the boy's relatives. Wisely, his decision had been to keep such knowledge to himself. If the urge to invade Privet Drive, and torture the Durlseys until they were nothing more than gibbering piles of wasted flesh, was so strong in _him, _he was well aware that Integra would likely follow through. Not that this would be a bad thing. Politics stayed his hand, however. Without knowing Dumbledore's intentions for lying about the situation, they needed to tread carefully, and stay within the law. Publicly, at least.

The goblins had hinted to him that they were cooking up revenge of their own. He whole-heartedly approved, having some notion of their penchant for organized crime. One way or another, Harry's abusers would suffer dearly for their misdeeds. The Angel of Death would have preferred their lives in exchange, however, imprisonment would do, if he had no choice on the matter.

Attention turning back to the boy, Walter frowned at him until he at last picked the toast back up and resumed nibbling. Large progress had been made in such a short time. Walter would not see their careful work dropped back a notch over a little case of nerves. He nodded in satisfaction once the entire piece of toast was devoured. He was not happy with it, but he was not cruel enough to force Harry to eat much more. It was his hope that the sweets cart on the train would be too tempting to pass up for the growing boy.

Glancing at the clock hanging near the door, the butler rose to his feet. "Have your things packed already?"

A mute nod was accepted, given the boy's obvious nerves. "Good. You have some free time, so relax for a bit. Simply be in the foyer at eight o'clock. Don't worry about your things, I'll see to it myself. Also, I took the liberty of sending your raven ahead to the castle."

"Oh, thank you." Harry felt slightly guilty. In the rush of life at Hellsing, he had forgotten about the bird. Wandering aimlessly once dismissed, he soon found himself in the library, browsing through the stacks of books. He was not entirely certain that he was alone, glimpsing shifts in the shadows. Shrugging it off as Alucard, he snagged an interesting looking tome on werewolves, before making his way to the back lounge area, near the windows. The shadows continued to move about aimlessly in his periphery, but the vampire made no move to approach. The sudden change of behavior put Harry on edge, but largely, he was relieved.

The time passed all too quickly, and soon Harry found himself prodded into a car. Walter was his only company for the drive to King's Cross station in London. He provided a quiet, but oddly comforting, anchor for the boy's ever growing nerves. He felt a bit faint as they arrived, and he spotted all of the people. He was infinitely thankful for Walter, as the man had no issue clearing a path, pushing Harry's trunk on a luggage cart. Following close behind, they stopped abruptly just between platforms nine and ten. Peering around, Harry blinked at the realization that there was no platform nine and three quarters. Before he could question, Walter gestured for him to join him near the wall.

"It's an illusion. You simply step through calm as you please. Only magic users can make it through... I will have to leave you here."

Harry felt a bit crestfallen, but nodded in acceptance. "It's not that I wouldn't like to see you off. I would prefer to keep a low profile, however. I'm certain you recall my conversation with Olivander."

The prompt made Harry blink. Honestly he had almost forgotten the overheard conversation. Though not understanding all of it, he supposed it would make sense for Walter to not want to bump into old 'friends'. Their farewell was awkward, neither quite sure whether a handshake was appropriate, but not comfortable enough for a hug. Walter settled on lightly squeezing his shoulder, before offering a couple words of wisdom.

"It will seem difficult at first, but eventually you'll settle in. Try not to fall into house rivalry, or you'll find yourself miserable from the various competitions. You may owl myself or Sir Integra as you desire, and if anything _untoward_ happens, you have Alucard's gift."

With that, he was urged firmly towards the wall. Drawing in a deep breath, Harry forced himself to straighten up a bit. It would be his first time around children his own age since he escaped the Dursleys. The thought was not entirely comforting, but he told himself, as he made his way through the gate and onto the platform, that not all children were like Dudley and his gang. The few he encountered who potentially could be, would be nothing, without an adult backing them.

A shudder ran through his frame at the thought, but solidified his resolve. If any adults at the castle tried to physically harm him, it would be within his power to do something about it. Alucard's gem lay like an anchor beneath his shirt. That he could actually use the shadow remained to be seen, but he forced the self-doubt away. If he could poison his own relatives, he could call a vampire to help get him out of harms way. But of course, thinking, and doing, were two entirely separate things.

Picking his way slowly through the dwindling crowds of the platform, he felt distinctly uncomfortable as some of the adults shot him odd looks. Keeping his head down, he sped up a bit, hurrying to the train as the whistle sounded a warning. Struggling with his trunk, he could have wept for joy as two sets of hands came into his view, helping him pull it up the stairs. Glancing up from lamenting a bruised toe, he blinked.

Before him stood identical twins, both with red hair and freckles. They looked a bit older than him, but smiled readily enough. They extended a hand each, making him scramble a bit to shake both at once. They winked mischievously, easing some of the tension from his frame. They did not seem malicious.

"Hello, I'm Gred,"

"And I'm Forge!"

"Better known as,"

"Fred and George!"

Watching them speak made him want to smile. At their expectant looks, he blushed at his own lack of manners. "Er... I'm Harry."

Their eyes drifted towards his forehead for a fraction of a moment. To his relief, his hair was cooperating in covering the scar, for once. They did not seem to mind one way or another, whether or not he was Harry Potter, as they chattered amicably at each other as they helped the younger boy find an empty compartment. He was immensely greatful for the treatment, as the sheer amount of children running through the corridor made him shudder. The train felt infinitely smaller than it actually was.

They left him with brief promises to return, after saying goodbye to their mother and sister. The prospect of them coming back was one Harry looked forward to. He had not spoken much, unless one addressed him during the search, but listening to their banter was amusing. A short while after the train left, he was disturbed from reading quietly, by the compartment door sliding open. A tall red-head around Harry's age stumbled in, dragging his trunk. He looked a bit put-out when he finally looked up to see it already occupied.

"Oh, hi. I'm Ron Weasley. Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

The dark boy shrugged, not really caring one way or another. Ron took it as an invitation, carelessly letting his trunk fall in the middle of the floor. Hiding his face back behind his book, Harry suppressed a wince at the loud noise. The new boy held a strong resemblance to Fred and George, but there was no desire to speak to him, as he immediately set about being as obnoxious as possible, without uttering a word. He breathed loudly, shuffled his feet nervously, and heaved an annoyed sigh, before muttering pointedly about his mum.

At receiving no response, Ron finally turned to start a conversation. "So, what's your name? You're a first year, yeah?"

Letting out a quiet, annoyed, breath, Harry resigned himself to setting the book aside. "It's Harry." A gasp, and darted look towards his forehead made the quiet boy want to sock Ron in his dirt-smudged nose.

"_The _Harry Potter?" The awed note informed Harry that his bangs had at last betrayed him. Instead of verbalizing, he just nodded shortly, hoping to discourage any more talk. It did not work. The boy prattled on.

"I mean, I'm sitting next to _the _Harry Potter! D'ya remember... that night I mean, when you vanquished you-know-who?"

Gaze darkening, he shook his head, pointedly not answering. After a long moment, Ron let out a rude huff, "Trust a celebrity to not want to consort with 'common' folk."

Drawing in a deep breath, to keep from actually hitting the other boy, Harry's voice was soft in his anger. It was not often he got to vocalize displeasure; at the Dursleys he had been forced to hide it. The action was foreign, but oddly pleasing.

"I just don't wish to discuss the murder of my parents, with an entitled, dirt-nosed, prat whom I've yet to even speak to, save my name."

Rather than being chastised, Ron's face turned a strange shade of tomato-red. Getting to his feet, he shot a ferocious glare, and looked as if _he _might resort to physical violence. They were both saved the trouble, as the door slid open again, the twins peeking in with disapproving frowns. "Ikkle Ronnikins-"

"-Why don't you,"

"Go bother,"

"Someone who actually cares."

"I mean honestly,"

"What were you thinking,"

"You prat. Wait 'til mum,"

"Hears about this!"

They slid in and shoved their brother out before he could do more than grunt in outrage. His trunk soon followed, barely avoiding smashing him in the face as they literally chucked it. Slamming the door on any attempts at protest, the twins turns apologetic grimaces on Harry. For the most part, the younger boy was trying not to laugh at Ron's expression at having his own brothers toss him out.

"Sorry 'bout that, Harry."

"Ikkle Ronnikins just got,"

"Dropped on his head,"

"One too many times,"

"As a baby."

Harry waved them off, suddenly a bit shy. He never had anyone come to his rescue before. Let alone the offender's own brothers. It threw him, and made it difficult to form words for a moment.

"Er... it's alright. Thank you."

Perhaps sensing his hesitation, the twins settled in quietly, content to let him read undisturbed for the majority of the trip. They spent a great deal of time huddled over pieces of parchment, whispering to each other as they made notations. From overheard words, they were formulating a new prank. The notion somehow did not surprise Harry, as he observed them subtly over the edge of his book. They seemed to delight in confounding people by speaking in tandem, in addition to their mischievous grins, and easy attitudes.

They were only disturbed twice, before they pulled onto the Hogsmeade platform. Once, by a bushy haired girl and sniffling boy, who were looking for a toad. The twins were quick to hedge her back out, the second she began exclaiming over Harry's scar. The second interruption was in the form of a snobbish blonde and his two cronies. He reminded Harry of Dudley, sans whale suit. The twins had scowled in disapproval the second they heard his name, and had forced the three away before much more could be said. They chose to ignore Harry's curiosity over it, not that he was not thankful for the peace and quiet before the real tests of patience and resolve began.

Harry was none too pleased to finally be free of the cramped space of the train. Not that the platform was much better. Thankfully the twins stayed with him for as long as they could, before they were forced to follow the rest of the older student. A rather large man stood heads taller than most of the students, getting rather intimidated glances from the shaking first years as he called them over. Harry kept his head down, as the man's beady black eyes swept over the sea of heads, as if searching for someone specific.

The castle was stunning, with the view from the lake, not that Harry got much opportunity to enjoy it. Having lagged behind the rest of the first years, he had been forced into a boat with the same bushy-haired girl from the train, a pair of female twins, and the blonde. Her expression had lit with excitement the second she spotted him coming near, and had jumped into a lengthy lecture which had started with the words, "I know all about you, Harry Potter!"

The mention of his name had of course drawn gasps and stares from the others, making Harry tune out the entire situation. When they finally landed in an underground harbor at the base of the castle, he was all too happy to dodge his way to the front of the line, as a strict looking woman with black hair, and green robes, led them inside. News swiftly spread up the line that 'Harry Potter is among us!', quite frankly it made Harry wish to poison the lot of them and have done with it. Keeping his head down as much as possible, he would forever be greatful to the ghosts, for providing ample distraction.

The arrival of the transparent figures through the wall only startled him from the suddenness of their appearance. Hogwarts A History had mentioned them, so he quickly shook off the fright, while the others continued cowering, or hyperventilating, in the case of one poor boy. Finally, they were led into the great hall. The descriptions from the book did not do it justice. Gazing around with honest awe, he turned his attention upward, quite pleased to see stars twinkling merrily. It only enhanced the feeling of space, despite the throngs of noisy older students already sitting at the four tables.

Forming a loose line in front of the head table, Harry suppressed the urge to fidget, tuning out the hat's singing as he took pains to calm his breathing. Being the center of attention was something he had been taught to be a bad thing, at the Dursleys. No matter that he was only one among dozens to be sorted. Never the less, a lead weight formed just south of his sternum as _"Perks, Sally-Anne"_, was called forward. Retreating behind his masks, he tuned out the rest of the world, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable. He nearly missed it as, as expected, his name was called.

Ignoring the flurry of whispers that swept through the room, his features remained inscrutable as he carefully made his way over to the stool, taking a seat. McGonagall shot him a strange look, before his vision was encased in darkness, the hat lowering clear to his nose. Utter silence encased him for a fraction of a second, before he felt a crawling sensation across his scalp.

"_Ooooh, finally made it, I see. I was wondering if you would." _

He started at the voice, fists clenching in his lap to quell any other physical reaction. The hat made a thoughtful noise.

"_So reserved... Yet you know when to act where it counts. Cunning, intelligent, undeniably brave... Where do you think you should go, Potter?" _

Blinking at the question, he shrugged, vaguely recalling Walter's advice. _"Honestly, I'd prefer not to be __in Ron Weasley's house... or that buck-toothed girl. Beyond that... I don't have a preference." _

The hat shivered with glee. Quite odd, considering it did not express emotion, per se. _"Ah, so you've met Walter. Impudent little brat," _It sounded fondly amused, _"That leaves out Gryffindor, then. You're only loyal to those who earn your trust... Not quite for the humble Hufflepuff... Oh my... I know exactly where to put you." _It sounded quite smug, making Harry's forehead crinkle in confusion.

"_You don't have to understand, but you will in time. For now, go join-" _

"_**SLYTHERIN!" **_

Unearthly silence gripped the hall, as everyone held their breaths in shock. Harry had to fight the urge to stomp his feet just to break the uncomfortable atmosphere, as he headed towards the silver and green house. Steadfastly ignoring any who moved over a bit too eagerly, he made his way until he spied a weedy looking boy near the end. He seemed to be paying Harry no mind, as he gazed at the golden plates with longing. A free space next to him afforded the scrawny brunet a place to sit, without being hounded overly.

It took a long moment after he sat, before noise finally erupted. A loud hiss from the gold and scarlet entourage, followed by a loud yelp, as someone -Harry suspected it was the twins' doing- was abruptly silenced with a kick, sparked McGonagall to abruptly continue the sorting. Now safely out of the limelight, save craned looks from his new house, and other tables, he let out a quiet breath of relief. The boy he had chosen seemed just as content to ignore him, which was more than fine. After a few more minutes, "Zabini, Blaise", was the last student to be sorted, joining Slytherin.

The dark skinned boy took a seat across from Harry, blithely barring an older student from sliding over. He shot the brunette a disinterested glance, before dismissing him entirely. Harry was perfectly alright with the uncaring attitude from his appointed 'shields'. To further discourage being pestered, an old man stood from the center of the staff table, and indicated for them to eat. Observing the old man yielded the assumption that this was Dumbledore.

As if sensing the realization, the old man turned his head to peer directly at Harry, and winked. Cold dread gripped the boy, as the twinkling blue eyes conjured countless nightmares from his past. Yet, they did not make sense. He had never seen this man before in his life.

A sharp elbow in his side made him hiss, tensing abruptly at the unexpectedness of the contact. The rabbit-like boy beside him frowned, before motioning towards the plates of food. The reminder caused his stomach to rumble, as the tantalizing scents finally registered. Reaching hesitantly for the dishes, he tucked in with some reserve, slightly skittish as he realized some people were still staring at him. It set him off his appetite, but he forced himself to eat half of his plate. The amount was still considerably less than what a normal eleven year old would have consumed, and earned him strange looks.

He chose to ignore his peers, in favor of observing the staff. There was McGonagall, sitting next to Dumbledore at the center of the table. Snape sat between a hawkish looking woman, and a tiny man. He did not appear to be participating in conversation. But rather, his gaze was roving over the Slytherin table, as if transcribing each face to memory. At last, his gaze landed on Harry. His lips pursed into a frown, black eyes narrowing in thought as they stared each other down. The reaction was strange to Harry, but he shrugged it off. He was now in the man's house, and thus had made his job both easier, and more difficult.

Ignoring the desserts which sprang into being a short time later, he continued his silent observation. One man sat chatting on McGonagall's other side, his head wrapped in a purple turbin. He had a shifty air about him, as he stuttered out a laugh. Their eyes met briefly, before just as abruptly, the acknowledgment was forgotten. Harry's scar ached oddly, but he refused to rub at it in public. Before he could ponder too deeply on the strange occurrence, Dumbledore stood once more.

The obviously standard announcements were noted, but largely tuned out. A sleepy haze was beginning to leaden his eyelids, making it hard to focus. Dimly, he wondered if the old man was serious about the warning regarding the third floor corridor. Many students laughed, clearly thinking it was a joke, but Harry was not among them. He took threats of harm or death quite seriously. Several other Slytherins seemed to hold similar opinions, as they went grimly silent after a moment of Dumbledore's frown.

Fighting to not stumble, as the older students herded the first years into the dungeons, Harry shivered at the almost frigid air. Not that he could complain. The common room was not that far from the entrance to the dungeons. The password, "_Flubbertyjiggly _– Who the bloody hell makes up these things?", made him crinkle his nose.

By contrast, walking into the room was like being wrapped in a warm blanket straight from the dryer. The ceiling was low, and the room dark, but the roaring fireplaces, and cozy looking chairs and couches made up. The house colors broke the otherwise gray scheme, candle sconces casting light across most of the study tables and corners. A prefect directed the males down a nearly unnoticed hall, rudely waving the group of first years into the very first door, while covering a yawn.

"You lot are in here. Be up by six o'clock, or you're finding your own way back to the great hall in the morning."

The others chatted quietly with each other as they readied for bed, but Harry stayed firmly silent. His lack of vocalization garnered a couple barbs from the platinum blonde, but they were easily ignored as he slipped behind the drapes of his bed to change. It felt odd to do so, when none of the other boys seemed to have issue with changing in front of each other. Thankfully on that, at least, there was no comment.

Soft snoring already filled the room, as Harry settled down in the plush blankets. They felt divine, even compared to his bed at Hellsing, which was saying something. Peering into the darkness, he let out a quiet sight. All in all, the day had gone well, despite the mild culture shock, and near constant barrage of questions and comments regarding his infantile deeds. He knew that the most challenging was yet to come, however. Eventually, he would be forced to socialize.

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**Note: **Health problems have been a factor in my life recently, on top of the stress of term starting in a week and a half. Hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint too much. As always, feedback is appreciated. And as always, I can't guarantee when the next chapter will be out.


	13. Trouble in Paradise

The next month witnessed a flurry of classes, homework, and stressful encounters. The day after the feast, saw several Slytherin students sizing him up like a choice steak, as a couple older years in the house attempted to sway him into friendship. Their methods and motives were suspect, as many saw fit to mention his parents, or you-know-who, in relation to offers to 'help him cope' with being a lion in the serpent's den. They acted as if he were a keep-away object, and the politics grated even before breakfast was over.

To the opposite, some within his own house seemed hostile, glaring at him as if he had committed some slight against humanity. These were the children of death eaters, he assumed. He found such antics distressing, but kindly deflecting their offers kept things from becoming ugly a time or two. The males in his own year remained oddly quiet on the topic, save private barbing from the Malfoy heir. The girls thought his silence was a show of arrogance, like Zabini's.

By contrast, among the other houses, it was only Gryffindor which seemed mortally offended at his new house. Though the overheard talk made him wish to shrink in on himself, he set his jaw and bore the suspicion. Incited largely by Ronald Weasley, half of the house seemed inclined to believe him to be the Anti-Christ. One overheard conversation, while waiting outside of the first potions class of the year, nearly brought the dark boy to tears.

"_I mean, I bet his parents must be proud. The son they died for is just as bad as a death eater, now." _

"_I heard he murdered his caretakers, and that's why he was on the platform alone." _

"_Terrified, is more like it. Look at him, I bet they took one look at his freakish scar and had to put a bag over his head."_

"_I wouldn't blame them. He killed his own parents, you-know-who, and then has the gall to put his lot in with the supremacists." _

The bone-deep sorrow inspired by those words had quickly turned to cold anger, squaring his shoulders and making his eyes darken. Before he could do anything about the gossipers, Draco and Co. beat him to it. The action of defense shocked Harry to stillness, as he watched Crabb and Goyal threaten the Gryffindors with violence. Draco spared him an inscrutable look, only calling his bodyguards off when the door opened.

The deliberately raised voices had cut him to the bone, hitting some wounds which had never healed from the Dursleys. Never the less, while tentatively grateful for Draco's interference, the show of support only served to put the blonde in the line of fire, as well. Of the Gryffindors, Fred and George were seen expressing their opinion, often in the form of humiliating pranks on key students. Ron seemed to take the brunt of them. He got a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, any time the twins pranked their own house. It was like being feather-light, mixed with warmth. He hesitated to call it anything but indigestion, but he suspected it to be the elation of having someone defend him, at long last.

To the opposite of the student body, many of the instructors seemed neutral on the topic. Snape was indeed strict, and harsh, in his classroom, however it was not often directed on Harry. The only issue presented itself when a raised voice was needed. Despite all progress, he still flinched, if he was not expecting it. That he knew of, none had witnessed the strange reaction, or if they did, they attributed it to the fact that- Snape is bloody scary when he's mad.

McGonagall was likewise strict, but ran an organized classroom, with no room for fooling off. She was biased towards her own house, but it was not often it presented itself while class was in session. The looks she sometimes shot Harry, were unsettling -but not threatening. She had yet to speak to him outside of academic requirements. Flitwick had fallen off his pile of books, upon calling Harry's name off the roster, but beyond that, seemed to hold truly neutral opinions of him.

Of the other teachers at the school, some seemed oblivious (such as the ghostly Professor Binns). Others seemed intent on ignoring his existence (Quirrel had squeaked interestingly upon spotting Harry). This was all fine by him, as he attempted to keep his head down and focus on his studies. The only deviation occurred every other day, after dinner. Stealing away from his classmates, it was not unusual to see him in the owlry, attempting to get to know his raven.

The large bird had been rather irritated with Harry, not that he could blame him. Guilt ate away at him for forgetting about the only pet he had ever been allowed to own. After the second visitation, with bribes of cooked meat, he was forgiven. Such did not stop him from self-deprecating thoughts on the topic. His one, and only, pet, whom he had loved almost at first sight, and the carrion bird had yet to even garner a name, much less his attentions over summer. He personally thought that he did not deserve, or have the right, to own it. He was just freakish, good-for-nothing, Harry. In this case, he really was as ungrateful a freak as his relatives claimed. Such thoughts provoked further guilt, in the knowledge that Sir Integra had rescued him, for nothing, as he knew the progress made over the summer was slipping.

The cyclical thoughts remained hidden beneath the surface during the day, and came to the fore at night, in the form of horrific night terrors. They left him shivering like a leaf in a hurricane, sweat-soaked sheets prompting a deep mortification. The scent of urine was difficult to mask, without Walter's unflappable bearing to assure him it was 'quite alright', and normal, for a child experiencing night terrors. Harry was certain the butler had simply been trying to make him feel better about it. If his dorm-mates noticed anything, they kept it to themselves.

Shame had stayed his hand, in writing to Walter, or Sir Integra. However the logical side of his mind won out eventually. He was being childish about the entire school affair, and he knew it. There was no call to insult his guardian on top of it. Actually composing the letters had posed the issue. He had no wish to whine, but eventually, in Walter's letter, he included a brief note regarding the bullying; as well as asking for advice on overcoming the night terrors. It hurt on a near physical level, to send them with the newly dubbed Omi. Trusting adults had never been big on his list of priorities, but he was trying.

The name of his raven had posed some issue, as the bird had seemed disinterested in his efforts. It was not until reading through one of his books of history, that the perfect name presented. Omi had been a wizard from Scandinavia, who held a fondness for tricking muggle royalty, in addition to creating the _Sonorus _charm, which acted as a megaphone. The raven was certainly loud when it wished to voice displeasure.

All in all, the first month was an extremely trying time for Harry, as he struggled to acclimate. Thankfully for him, a new wave of interest spread through the castle like a wild fire in October, derailing a large chunk of the drama associated with his sorting. Quidditch was a sport which held little interest to him, beyond that Madam Hooch had commented on his natural flying ability, and he enjoyed the free feeling of flight. Never the less, the intrigue was contagious, as friendly rivalry broke out between the houses.

Through out the trying times, he had managed avoidance of real conversation with classmates quite well. He was not the only anti-social student in Slytherin, so his antics went largely unnoticed. Or so he thought. It came as a surprise, when midway through the month, Snape called for him to stay behind after class. Fearing some mistake with his homework, it nearly toppled him when the topic was revealed.

"Not that I overly care, Mr. Potter, but why are you secluding yourself from your own house?"

Gaping at the dark professor for a moment, he scrambled as the black eyes narrowed at him. "Er... I don't want to get involved in politics, sir."

"Hogwash." The simple response made his insides squirm, as internally he cursed himself for such a flimsy excuse. Disliking being on the spot, he fought not to fidget, or let his expression slip. The professor paused to take in Harry's appearance, frown turning into a slight scowl. "You are acting like a frightened rat. Quite shocking to think you capable of poisoning your own relations. - Yes, I, and Dumbledore, are aware of that incident." The last provoked a flinch.

"You may continue to allow people the luxury of treading all over you, like a floor mat... Or you can show them that you are more than a child who's celebrity status has gone to his head."

The words echoed Harry's own internal thoughts from months ago, and shocked him into letting the masks slip. His expression was crestfallen, and uncertain, but Snape merely glanced away. What happened to his ambitions, and the resolute assurance that he would blaze his own path? Why was he floundering, and hiding away, as the professor said? He may as well have tossed himself into one of the castle broom cupboards, for all the efforts he had made since arriving at the school.

As if sensing his thoughts, the professor slid a book across his desk, indicating for Harry to take it. "Report to the quidditch pitch tomorrow after class." Not waiting for a response, the man got to his feet, and disappeared into his office. With some dread, Harry picked up the book, and blinked.

'_Seeking, For Trolls' _

The next day, found Harry's stomach a pit of nerves as he followed Snape's instructions. The pitch seemed unaccountably huge, in its nearly deserted state. Only a large group of older Slytherins assured him that it had not been a joke of sorts. They seemed to not notice his wary approach, too engrossed in conversation. He picked up the vein of topic, as the seeming leader of the group let out an annoyed bellow.

"Damn Higgs for breaking an arm! What in the bleedin' hell was he doing?"

"Showing off for his girlfriend, I heard."

A pretty blonde girl, who looked to be in seventh year, commented idly, "I heard he refused to let Madam Pomfrey heal it because he wanted more free time for NEWTs."

That sent the boy into a flurry of vulgarity, kicking at the ground to vent frustration over the loss of an obviously favored team mate. Harry shuffled, fighting not to flinch at the display. The movement caught the attention of some of them, prompting the same blonde girl to smack the leader upside the head with her broom.

"Oi! Shaddup, we got virgin ears listening!"

Ignoring the furious glare that received, she sauntered over to smile fakely at Harry. "You lost, Potter?" The attention made him wish to cringe, as the others turned to stare. Drawing in a deep breath, he pushed aside the quivering of his heart, to look her resolutely in the eye.

"No. Professor Snape told me to come here. I'm assuming, to try out for seeker." His voice was quiet, but carried easily enough. Observing their body language, some of the tension eased from his frame, as a realization dawned. They were like snakes, in their own right. Some of them were genuinely cold, but the way they bore themselves spoke plainer than words. A couple of them crossed their arms over their chests, defensive postures. Others in the group looked outright curious, leaning forward slightly to better hear the goings on. The remainder held themselves aloof, and without opinion.

The boy, Marcus, if he remembered correctly, looked him over a touch harshly, shoulders tense. After a long moment, he slowly began to relax, frown turning into a thoughtful smirk. "You ever played before, Potter?" A hesitant shake of the head earned him a crooked-toothed grin.

"No time like the present."

Before he quite knew what was going on, he found a broomstick shoved into his hands, and he was in the air. The sensation of flying filled him with a calming joy, previously foreign to him. It was dizzying, but thankfully the flying lessons from Madam Hooch had gotten him used to it enough to manage. Wind ruffling his unruly hair to new levels of disarray, he could not stop a small smile. A sharp whistle from below signaled the beginning of the impromptu match.

It was six against six, the Slytherin team having no reserve seeker. Flint remained on the ground to observe performance, while one of the reserve chasers served as the opposing seeker. Nerves steady in the euphoria of flying, he dodged a bludger that was immediately sent his way. He had no time to flinch, as the opposing beaters pelted him with bludgers, giving no quarter even as Harry sped across the pitch.

Eyes searching out the fleck of gold against the sky, he swerved abruptly, nearly unseating himself, as one of the chasers attempted to ram him. Panting for breath, he held on for dear life as no breaks were afforded. Movement caught his eye, prompting him to grit his teeth as the other seeker went into a dive. He moved to chase after her, before pulling up short, squinting at her supposed target, there was nothing there. One of the beaters gave him a thumb's up for not falling for the feign, even as they pitched a bludger at his face.

The game wore on for what felt like hours, dodging, and weaving his way between players and balls alike. A bludger clipped his side half way through, but he resolutely ignored the dull pain, determined to see it through to the end. A flash of gold out of the corner of his eye made him wheel around, bolting off at top speed, almost reckless, as his gaze focused solely on the tiny snitch. Dodging around the hoops, he barrel rolled to avoid the hapless keeper, hand whipping out to snag the struggling ball from beneath the boy's ear.

Cheers erupted from the team, as Flint called for them to land. The beaming grin on his face looked strange, but was mirrored by the others, as they gazed at the bedraggled first year as if they had just won the lottery. Once feet were firmly planted on the ground, his aching side made itself more apparent, but he ignored it without indication. The approval of his housemates filled him with an odd sensation, as if he was about to burst with happiness. Shuffling his feet, he focused on what Flint was saying, rather than attempting to dissect the strange new feeling.

"-Don't tell anyone, you're our secret weapon. I can't wait to see the Gryffindor's die of embarrassment at being bested by a first year!" The older boy's glee was ruptured by one of the keepers.

"He'll have to use a school broom though, won't he?" He shrank back under the glare the reality check received. Harry wavered a moment, still coming off the high of flying, before accepting an offered practice schedule.

"There's no way in hell I'm letting anyone ride on anything less than the best! I'll talk to Snape and see about getting the first year restriction lifted. Technically there aren't any rules against first years playing, just bringing personal broomsticks."

The only female on the team shook her head, scoffing at Flint. "Really, so impractical, men are. He can use the reserve team brooms. We all have Nimbus 2000's. Those snot-nosed brats in Gryffindor would throw a bloody fit if they saw Harry with one. Especially Wood." She sneered unmercifully at Marcus, "Besides, he's supposed to be our _secret_ weapon. What's so secret about him getting a broom-shaped package at breakfast?"

A couple of the reservists looked mulish, but they were ignored in favor of the logical conclusion. Harry remained silent as they fine-tuned the 'plan'. Honestly he held no opinion, since he technically was given no choice on joining the team, beyond try-outs. He felt slightly annoyed at Snape, but in all honesty, he could have thrown the game if he really had issue enough about it. The chatter tapered off, redirecting his focus once more.

The team was splitting ways, signaling the end of try-out practice. Flint walked alongside Harry for a moment, atmosphere uncomfortable, as neither knew quite what to say. Finally, the older boy motioned vaguely towards his side.

"Get that checked out. If you get hospitalized from it, I'll smother you in your sleep."

The words were said almost cheerfully, making Harry wonder if it was meant to be a joke. Judging by his explosion over the last seeker, he decided it was best not to test it. That did not mean he would be going to the hospital wing, though. There was no sharp pain when he bended, or pressed his ribs, so it was safe to say it was merely a nasty looking bruise.

The older boy broadened his steps, distancing himself from Harry, and leaving the young brunette to his own thoughts. It was strange, that after so many years, he would finally be accepted by a group of wizards, and vampire hunters. It made his head reel just considering. Pausing to press his side once more, he finally allowed a grimace, as the pain registered as a dull ache. It was more annoying than the outright stab of broken bones.

Moving to continue back to the castle, he was brought up short as a black shape winged towards him from a rampart. Omi squawked a greeting, prompting a smile, as the large bird landed on his shoulder. Petting the silky feathers, he detached the letters he carried, before blinking.

"I don't have any food on me."

The raven cocked its head to the side, and peered at him ominously, beak clicking with ire, before letting out an ear-splitting screech, rudely throwing himself from Harry's shoulder. Bemused, the young wizard dodged a 'missile', and watched the moody avian head towards the forest. Glancing back towards the notes, he frowned. Walter and Sir Integra were only now responding to his correspondence. It made him worry, for the butler's comments of 'something going on', and wonder what exactly that could be, that they could not even write. Gripping the letters firmly, he jogged the remaining distance to the main doors.

Dinner was in full swing, by the near deafening clamor from the great hall. Ignoring his grumbling stomach at the wafted scents, he turned to make his way down into the dungeons. Once again, he found his move interrupted. A sneering voice from behind made him tense sharply, and set his teeth on edge.

"What are you doing sneaking around, Potter? I'd have thought you'd want your adoring fans on your arm at dinner."

Ron smirked, as if he had just said something clever. The lackluster barb made Harry frown. Even Dudley had been able to come up with more creative words than that. Regarding the red-head silently for a long moment, he shook his head, before making to continue on his way. The lack of reaction prompted a growl, and Harry was almost expecting it when his arm was suddenly grabbed from behind. Wheeling around, he crinkled his nose as his nostrils were assaulted by the scent of stale roast, as Ron shoved his face close.

"You think you're better than everyone else. If you ask me, your parents should have drowned you. It would have saved them from dying for an ungrateful snake."

Eyebrow slowly inching up, Harry could only stare in amusement for a long moment. He had no clue who this boy was, but he did know that Ron Weasley had nothing on Vernon. The insults only served to amuse, and cause a simmering anger to ignite in his belly. Schooling his expression, he regarded the weasel silently for a long moment. The action seemed to unnerve and enrage the red-head at the same time. His hand around Harry's upper arm clenched painfully tight, and the brunette knew there would be a bruise.

"What do you know of me, or my family, to have a right to say anything on the topic? Please let go of my arm."

The quiet, polite, request, made Ron's face turn a strange shade of purple. Before the other boy could even twitch, Harry was certain what was running through his mind. Movements clumsy and obvious, the Gryffindor reared back, as if to strike the smaller Slytherin. Harry took the opportunity. Before the blow could land, he threw all of his weight into falling backward, taking advantage of Ron's shock as they were both unbalanced, to kick out forcefully at the other boy's knee. A loud yelp and cry of agony accompanied a sickly pop, as they both went down. Harry did not flinch as the rough stone tore at his palms, as he caught himself before he could land more painfully.

The taller boy's howls attracted attention from the great hall, but for once, Harry failed to mind. Students peered out in shock, some shouting for the professors, some cheering as they realized what had transpired. Three red-heads detached from the crowd, though none looked terribly sympathetic. The older of the Weasley boys frowned disapprovingly at both his brother, and Harry, while the twins winked at the Slytherin.

"Really, fighting in the corridors?"

"Wait 'til mum hears about this!"

"Stop it, you two, this is a serious violation of school rules!"

The twins made light of their younger brother's misfortune, sparking an argument with the busy-body. For the most part, Harry chose to stay where he was, resting on the floor, while keeping a sharp eye on Ron. Not that he would mind, if the idiot attacked him while there were witnesses. The dislocated knee-cap seemed to keep him under control however. Despite not having intended to seriously injure him, Harry felt satisfaction course through him, as well as embarrassment, and worry. Could he get expelled for hurting a fellow student, even in self-defense?

The professors arrived in short order, McGonagall and Snape heading the adults, as they took stock of the situation. Making a beeline for their respective students, Harry's victory suddenly dulled under the impressive glare of his head of house. Dread coursed through him, as he glimpsed the Headmaster, as well. The other instructors herded the curious onlookers away, ordering them to their dormitories. From the Slytherins, Draco, Theodore, and Blaise observed Harry with some fascination, making him all the more uncomfortable, until they were sharply reprimanded for falling behind the others.

"What happened, Potter?"

Before he could answer the hissed question, a quiet voice piped up from near the house hourglass cases. With some shock, Harry realized the encounter had not been as unobserved as he had thought. Glancing over in surprise, the buck-toothed Gryffindor from the train wavered uncertainly, glancing back and forth between Harry and Ron. She gnawed her lip uncertainly as she drew attention from the adults.

"Harry was attacked, sir."

The Gryffindor house head glanced up sharply from quieting Ron down. "Please explain, Ms. Granger." She darted a nervous glance towards the Headmaster, who seemed just as content to hum whimsically, as if not paying an ounce of attention to the goings on. Harry wondered if he was entirely right in the head.

"I was coming to dinner from the library, when I heard people talking, professor. Ron was taunting Harry about his parents. When Harry ignored him, Ron physically grabbed him by the arm, and refused to let go when Harry asked him to."

She hesitated a long moment, before Snape made an impatient noise. The quiet girl startled a bit, before hurrying on, "Ron tried hitting him, and Harry defended himself."

The adults took a moment to process the information, before the strict transfiguration instructor turned to Harry. Her lips pursed as she took in his appearance, eyes lingering on his bloodied palms. "Mr. Potter, may we see your arm, where he grabbed you?"

The attention from so many adults rankled his nerves, but under Snape's harsh stare, he nodded slowly. Drawing the sleeve of his robe up his right arm, he felt keenly aware of the scars the act left bare for everyone to see. McGonagall's lips pursed into a thin, white, line, but she did not comment, until a rapidly blackening bruise was revealed on his upper arm. It clearly outlined the vague shape of a hand. Her lips turned into an ugly frown. Before Snape could even move to mete out punishment, she beat him to it.

"One-hundred points from Gryffindor, and two weeks detention, for Mr. Weasley. Thirty points from Slytherin, for causing undue harm to a fellow student, Mr. Potter."

Not even Snape could argue with that assessment, though he looked as if he would dearly like to, at the deducted points from Slytherin. The deputy headmistress commented further, "Letters will be sent to both of your families, informing them of this incident."

The Weasley's face and ears turned a stark red at the last, and he obviously bit through his lip so as not to argue. For his part, Harry was only worried about the letters, in how Sir Integra would react. As if sensing the thought, Dumbledore finally stepped in, motioning for Harry to get to his feet.

"Minerva, Severus, why don't you see after your students? I have something to discuss with Harry."

Harry hesitated to follow the order, but a narrowing of Snape's gaze had him on his feet. The headmaster smiled serenely, motioning for the small boy to follow. To his surprise, Snape also moved to join them. Dumbledore paused, "Severus?"

"As Potter is a member of my house, it is my duty to ensure he arrives back to the dormitories safely. I wouldn't put it past certain students to retaliate."

Unable to find fault with the logic, Dumbledore simply nodded, as if the idea was his all along. The twinkling blue eyes set Harry on guard, but Snape's presence eased the sharper edge to the unease. Leaving McGonagall to see after Ron, and the bushy-haired girl, Harry followed reluctantly as he was led to the first floor. A rather imposing gargoyal blocked the way, as they halted in front of it. Harry gazed at it curiously, not the least surprised when it jumped aside at Dumbledore's cheerful proclamation of, 'Sourheads'.

Rather used to the oddities of the wizard world by now, Harry only paused to marvel at the sheer amount of strange items littering the Headmaster's office, as he was waved into a chair. Snape chose to remain standing, taking up a position behind Harry's seat. The display seemed to cause Dumbledore to twinkle all the more, though it dimmed, as the boy refused to look him directly in the eye, as he turned down an offer of sweets.

"Straight to business. Now, Harry, I understand that you were removed from your muggle relatives during the summer." The lack of subtlety put the boy on edge. He nodded slowly, uncertain if he should actually respond.

"I am afraid that there are some discrepancies with your paperwork, and am wondering if you could clear up some confusion, my good lad." The old man shuffled through some parchments on his desk, glasses slipping to the end of his nose, as he peered at one. Behind him, Harry heard his professor adjust his weight.

"Headmaster, I don't believe this to be entirely appropriate." Dumbledore turned twinkling eyes on Snape, expression one of indulgence.

"How so, Severus?"

"I find it unlikely that Hellsing would allow such blatant disregard for legal policy."

The headmaster waved him off, smile not diminishing in the least, as he turned his full attention back to Harry. "This is simply an unofficial inquiry, from a concerned professor. The school records still indicate that Petunia Dursley is your legal guardian. But according to our resources, you arrived at the train station with Mr. Walter Dorneaz. Could you please explain, Harry?"

Abruptly recalling the conversations of summer, Harry very slowly straightened up from his uncertain slouch, staring blankly at some point on Dumbledore's forehead. Snape's seeming defense eased some of his nerves, while intensifying others. The display served to remind him of his current status, however. As Sir Integra had told him, he was now a Hellsing, legally, if not in name. The goblins had seen to that. It had not escaped his noticed, too, that Dumbledore had been the one to contest his parents will. The notion caused a cold feeling to course through him.

Striving to keep his voice quiet, with innocent tones, he countered the question, "I was told by the goblins that my legal guardian is Sir Integra Hellsing. Is there a problem?"

Folding his hands on the desk, the old wizard leaned forward, trying to get Harry to look him in the eye. The attempt failed, as Harry's gaze twitched down to his beard. The twinkling set him on edge worse than anything of the man's demeanor. The sparkle seemed fake, and deliberate, and in reality, did hide the true reflection to his words. The fact ensured that the boy had no reason to observe him beyond body language. There was no way of telling his true intent, otherwise.

"Well, my boy, it is rather distressing. You see, with such conflicting accounts, I have no choice but to adhere to school policy in regards to your holiday, and summer, arrangements."

Dread weighed like an anvil in the pit of his stomach, suspicion making his expression turn stoney. Snape made as if to protest, but Dumbledore cut him off. "You see, if I were to allow you to leave with anyone but the guardians listed on school record, I could lose my job."

Harry glanced down at his lap, hands clenching into fists. Some pieces of the puzzle fell into place, but the true intent and meaning failed to reveal itself. Some emotion reflected in his voice, but it was ambiguous, lending no interpretation.

"I see... I wouldn't want you to lose your job, sir."

The beaming grin summoned the urge to slap the old coot in the face, but he held it back firmly. Thoughts scrambling, he chose to keep his silence, as the headmaster seemed to think the conversation over.

"Very good, lad. I shall send the Dursleys a letter. They have been quite worried, with the oddity of the situation."

Repressing an audible snort, Harry got to his feet. Bitter, but unwilling to show it, he bowed his head slightly. "I'm sure..."

With that, Snape urged him out the door, without a backward glance. Silence reined between them, until they were safely ensconced in the dungeons. The frigid air was actually a relief, as it doused Harry's desire to lash out, though depressed him, as the urge slipped away. His professor shot him a knowing look, though it held no sympathy.

"I suggest you inform Sir Hellsing of your new arrangements..." The firm tone implied much, and the boy knew that he would have to, if he did not wish to be pitched straight back into the hell of Privet Drive. There was no force on earth that would make him go back, after the lengths he had gone to, to escape. Snape nodded slightly, as if to confirm, as they stopped outside the expanse of wall that housed the Slytherin common room. Without so much as a parting, the professor stalked off.

The common room held stragglers, but was empty for the most part, as Harry slunk in quietly. A couple of them acknowledged him with nods, but seemed content to leave him be. It struck him as extremely strange. Normally his entrance was greeted with disinterested glances, or outright glares. Shrugging it off, he made his way over to a deserted fireplace, pulling the nearly forgotten letters from his pocket. Walter's was opened first, read with a faint blush, as the man exchanged idle pleasantries, before primly stating a list of advices for his issues.

Hurriedly tucking that letter away, lest someone spot it over his shoulder, he moved on to one with less familiar handwriting. To his shock, it was from Sir Integra. Hers contained formal inquiries regarding his grades, and class performance. Less formal, was a note to look after himself, and report any suspicious activity. In a post script to her rather formal letter, '_Remember that you are now a Hellsing. We take orders from no one, with heads held high. Do not disgrace our name, by laying down like a dog'. _The words stung a bit, but after several moments consideration, he realized they did lend some comfort.

Retiring to the dorm, he was relieved to note that the drapes were closed on all but his bed. He had no wish to discuss the fight with Ronald with them. Not quite ready to sleep, with emotions in turmoil, he took the time to compose replies. Walter's contained thanks for the tips, as well as assurances that he was keeping up with his physical wellbeing. Integra's contained notes regarding his grades, his new position on the quidditch team, and the solemn note regarding Dumbledore's interference. It hurt to admit his need of aid, but her stern reminder bolstered the realization that he was now her family. It was foreign, but he chose to focus on not making her regret granting him asylum.

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**Note: **There you have it. Out in record time, too. One of the medications they have me on is making me feel like I'm having an acid trip, so, yay~Insomnia!


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